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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667244">Give Me A Reason</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kietzemaze/pseuds/Kietzemaze'>Kietzemaze</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Denial of Feelings, F/M, Kissing, Post TST, Romance, Slow Burn, True Love, Under Sherlock's Protection, love making, molly in danger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:16:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667244</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kietzemaze/pseuds/Kietzemaze</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock leaves his best friend's wedding far too early - which doesn't go unnoticed by Molly. She's worried and decides to follow him - even despite her fear to get herself into trouble by doing so. And she is in trouble indeed but not as she had assumed...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>145</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Foolish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dear readers,</p><p>this fic is a translation of my very first story and much closer to the TV series than the other one on here. ;) I hope you enjoy nevertheless!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He stepped outside and embraced the sudden silence that settled in when the door behind him closed. Since it was already dark, he couldn't see much of the picturesque park in front of him – but he didn’t care anyway. The pathway was only illuminated by the light that was falling through the large windows. With his hands in his pockets, he walked over the gravel that crunched under his feet and enjoyed the sight of the city lights in the distance. 

It was a starry night, the wind blew cool and refreshingly over his face, making him take a deep breath. Although it was still far too early to leave his best friend’s wedding, he made his way to the road.</p><p>Sherlock didn’t notice Molly’s anxious glances, which were following him as he put on his coat and moved away from the venue.</p><p><br/>
~~~</p><p><br/>
Molly was still wearing the yellow dress and her hair jewelry when she got into the taxi. She was annoyed because Tom had made them look pretty ridiculous. Not only that his "meat dagger" as a murder weapon was an unprecedented proof of his lack of intelligence, but also had he really hit the sauce and could hardly walk upright. Shortly after Mary and John had introduced the social part of the evening with their wedding dance, her fiancé's condition had become even more embarrassing, so that she'd grabbed her handbag and pushed him outside. Being in fresh air, he had vomited on the wonderful and neatly trimmed lawn, which he found mightily amusing. Tom might look similar to Sherlock, but was otherwise a frustratingly simple man and had nothing in common with the astute detective.</p><p>She had taken the first taxi she came across and had been driving home with her fiancé to put him in bed. On the ride, she had to keep him awake with all her might, because once in a comatose state she would not have known how to drag him into her apartment. With his arm around Molly's shoulder, Tom was staggering all the way to the bedroom and didn't even bother to undress. He had stunk to high heaven!</p><p>At least, Molly pulled the shoes off his feet and put a bucket next to the bed in case he had to throw up again. She was a little disgusted by the sight of him. The one she was supposed to marry. But as drunk as he was, chances were pretty high he wouldn't remember anything.</p><p>Without a guilty conscience, she had jumped back into the waiting taxi and driven on to Baker Street. If someone like Sherlock can be sentimental at all, then he had been tonight and that’s what made her worry. Molly somehow felt the need to keep her company and be there for him...</p><p>Although it was rather late, she hoped that he had not yet gone to sleep. To her relief, the lights were still on when the cab stopped, so she paid the horrendous price that the driver charged her and got out. After opening the chunky door, she went up the stairs, which made a creaky noise with every step she took. Sherlock must have heard her steps because he opened his door to check if everything was all right. The suspicious look on his face changed into an amazed one when he saw Molly approaching.<br/>
<br/>
“Molly, what are you doing here?”, he asked before he stepped aside to let her in.</p><p>“I just wanted to check on you”, she explained shyly and entered. His living room was pure chaos. Since John had moved out, the already existing mess had reached a new level. There seemed to be even more documents piling up on the desk, which were covered with an even higher layer of dust than usual. The kitchen rather resembled a chemical laboratory and the utensils for his experiments were spread all over the dining table. The few used plates and coffee cups were almost disturbing the sight. And the blade of his knife on the mantelpiece was barely visible among all the stacked letters.</p><p>She spotted Sherlock in the mirror above. He was still wearing the trousers of his suit and the matching shirt but had taken off the jacket. He followed her gaze and looked at her reflection with irritation.</p><p>"But we've seen each other at the wedding tonight."</p><p>Molly could not suppress a small smile because of his incomprehension and turned to him.</p><p>"I mean, I wanted to know how you're doing. You seemed to be depressed and not too happy for John."</p><p>He looked Molly firmly in the eyes and showed no emotion whatsoever. Pokerface. But then he assured her only half a second too late: "No, Molly, I'm fine. Mary is the best woman John has ever-"</p><p>"You don't have to lie to me, Sherlock. I know you too well by now", she interrupted him gently but determined.</p><p>He looked briefly down to the floor like a little boy who had been caught in a fraud, but immediately found back to his usual and always controlled self again. Maybe he was brilliant at deduction but in reading emotions, Molly was clearly superior to him. In fact, pretty much everyone was.</p><p>"You miss him. You're afraid that you've lost him. Not only as a roommate but also as a faithful friend. The two of you against the rest of the world."</p><p>She must have nailed it, for he turned away from Molly and walked over to the window, looking outside.</p><p>"Isn't there someone missing you, too? Or what does Tom say about you spending time with a supposedly lonely man in the middle of the night?"</p><p>
  <em>Touché! A raw nerve vs. sensitive ideas of morality.</em>
</p><p>Though his words hit her somehow, Molly tried to not take his remark personally. Rather, his reaction confirmed that she hadn't been wrong with her assumption.</p><p>„Tom is no longer able to form an accurate sentence tonight. His dizzy mind hasn’t even noticed that I left the house again“, she replied. Burying his hands in his pockets, he turned back to her.</p><p>„I thought so. If he were still in his senses, you couldn't have explained plausibly to him what brings you here at that time. I doubt that you would have been willing to explain anyway...“</p><p>„I've only set priorities.“</p><p>
  <em>Wait... Was she serious? Socially incompetent asshole with a brilliant mind preferred to seriously interested husband-to-be? Really?</em>
</p><p>For a short moment, an unpleasant silence ensued. The evening had obviously left a negative connotation for both of them and the conversation had not yet achieved the effect that Molly had hoped for. She went over to the couch and sat down. It did not feel right to claim John’s former armchair, as she noticed that it was the only piece of furniture free of documents, clothes, or other odds and ends. Sherlock apparently cherished the place, but she couldn’t tell whether he did it consciously.</p><p>By putting a glass of water on the small coffee table, Sherlock offered her something to drink.</p><p>“Why are you still up? What have you been doing?”, Molly asked into the silence.</p><p>“In fact, I haven’t been here for long. I walked all the way here.“</p><p>He cleared his throat, then he pointed at the file right next to the glass of water. „And I just found those notes.“</p><p>„What is that?“, she asked, reaching for it and flipping through the sheets.</p><p>“Just some riddles. I have trained John’s deductive skills with investigative puzzles from time to time. Obviously, he’d practiced a little himself.“</p><p>It almost broke Molly’s heart when she realized how deeply the detective was affected by his best friend’s wedding and the consequences of it. She wasn't an expert, but Sherlock's early withdrawal this evening, the long walk home, and the indulgence in old memories – it all indicated that he was suffering deep inside. Sherlock might appear as steady and distant as ever, but these subtle nuances in his behaviour spoke a different language.<br/>
<br/>
Sherlock must have noticed her sad and compassionate thoughts because suddenly he took the file out of her hand and asked challengingly: “Want to try one yourself?”</p><p>Maybe that was just the right thing to cheer up a bit and although Molly was a little worried about making a complete fool of herself, she nodded. The corners of his mouth curled slightly, then he sat down in his armchair and crossed one leg over the other, supporting the folder comfortably with his knee. He opened it, thoughtfully searching for a suitable one, and then began to read:</p><p>
  <em><br/>
David Campell who was General Agent of Silver Star Insurance living in Chelsea, London, planned carefully. He began with sending his wife Linda and the twin daughters Rita and Shelly to the countryside. That was Friday night. On Saturday, he took the last 150 pounds from his safe and left his house. When Campell returned from a horse race at 6 p.m., those 150 pounds were also gambled away. In a word, David Campell was bankrupt. His passion for competition had ruined him. Untouched, he began to carry out the second part of his plan intended for this case: with the help of a small, precisely weighed dynamite charge, he blew up the safe in his office. He then emptied the contents of all containers such as drawers, cupboards, and compartments on the floor. He ripped the phone out of the socket and all 25 folders out of the shelves.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When it was dark outside, he put on a pair of three sizes too big gumboots with deep-cut profile soles, switched off all the lights in the house, and entered the front yard. For five minutes, he tried to leave as many tracks as possible before he smashed the rear kitchen door with a stone and entered the house with dirty boots. He let the trail lead through the hallway to the already devastated office, where he made sure to leave enough dirt and prints once again.<br/>
<br/>
He went back, took off his boots, and entered the house on stockings. With a sharp knife, he cut the gumboots into small pieces and flushed them down the toilet. At 11 p.m. he got up to the 1st floor, put on his pajamas, lay down in bed, got up again, took a gun from the bedside table, and walked barefoot down into the hallway. He fired three times into the staircase. A hundred and twenty seconds later, he shot twice into the hallway from upstairs. It was now 11:08 p.m.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>David Campell hoped for the good hearing of his neighbors. In the bathroom, he smeared a thin layer of fat on his face and wet it with water. He also soaked the front and back of his pyjama jacket. At 11:17 p.m., he heard the siren of a patrol car. Then three officers stormed through the kitchen door into the house.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>At 11:35 p.m. , Detective Sergeant Newton appeared in person, and a trembling David Campell who was bathed in „sweat“, went on record saying:</em>
</p><p>“<em>I can’t say much. I was woken by a bang. Then I heard a noise from the basement. I took my gun and sneaked down. Halfway down the stairs, I suddenly noticed a shadow. I shouted, ’Stop! Or I’ll shoot!' That’s when I’ve been shot at three times. I fired back twice. The shadow disappeared in the kitchen. I wanted to make a phone call, but I didn’t get a connection. 15,000 pounds in cash and 10,000 pounds in securities were stolen from my safe.“</em></p><p>
  <em>When he signed the protocol, Berry Hyde from Forensics came in and told Newton, "Everything‘s clear, Jack. The perpetrator came through the garden and the kitchen door. We made two plaster casts of his shoes. Lots of fingerprints, by the way – hopefully also from the perpetrator." While Sergeant Newton went to the office with Campell, Hyde removed the five bullets of wall and wood. At 0.40 a.m., the officers said goodbye to the desperate David Campell. On Sunday, just before 11 o'clock, Campell received a second visit from the same Sergeant Newton.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Only this time, he wasn’t as friendly as before: "Please get dressed, Sir, and pack the necessities. We will probably have to talk about a fake crime in the Bureau for a while." David Campell thought about it endlessly before he found out what an unfortunate mistake he had made…</em>
</p><p>When Sherlock had finished, he closed the file again and threw it on his desk. Then he put his fingertips on his chin as he did so often and looked at Molly attentively.</p><p>"Well, Molly, what has the man done wrong?"</p><p>At this late hour, Molly had trouble remembering all the details and thought for quite a while.</p><p>
  <em>How can one pretend to be clever without having any idea whatsoever?</em>
</p><p>"There were only his fingerprints, but not a single one of the hypothetical perpetrator", she tried a shot in the dark. Sherlock shook his head.</p><p>"That's right, but not unusual in one's own four walls. Besides, a potential perpetrator may have been wearing gloves."</p><p>
  <em>Well, that's not how it works, obviously. Gloves! How trivial!</em>
</p><p>"Maybe he left too many traces with his shoes, which looked suspicious? Criminals usually try to avoid leaving traces whatsoever", she tried again.</p><p>"The footprints are irrelevant in this case. The soil came from its own front yard, which is quite plausible. Perhaps the size of the shoes could have been determined, but unfortunately, that's not unique and would have limited the amount of possible perpetrators only a little. In addition, they were three sizes too large anyway – for whatever reason one has shoes in his house that do not fit... No, that's not the mistake. Focus!," he said.</p><p>
  <em>Focus – that might actually help. Come on, Molly, think!</em>
</p><p>She tried to picture the scene in her head once again. Then, all of a sudden, it dawned upon her. “The gun!” she cried. " Same bullets from the same gun!”</p><p>Sherlock smiled. ”Good!”, he praised her. ”It is very unlikely that victims and perpetrators will use the same weapon with the corresponding bullets. There are just too many models on the market.“</p><p>Yes! She knew the riddle was just a piece of a cake for someone like Sherlock, yet she was proud of herself that she didn’t look a proper charlie. “Phew, I was lucky then, wasn't I?“</p><p>"I wonder if Lestrade could have solved it", he mocked.</p><p>"Sherlock, don't be so hard on Greg. I know, you like him", Molly replied, but couldn't suppress a soft giggle.</p><p>"I wouldn‘t say I like him. But he is not that bad and provides me with cases", Sherlock replied, smiling as well. To her satisfaction, Molly noticed that the mood had indeed brightened up a bit and leaned back on the sofa. There was a short pause in which Sherlock seemed to ponder or even to quarrel with himself. His gaze was directed at his foot, which was drawing small circles into the air. He brought the palms of his hands together, then he looked at Molly with his blue-green eyes and said,</p><p>"I hate to admit that you see through me every now and then. It disarms me. But I appreciate that you came here."</p><p>Molly remembered that night when Sherlock had told her about his plan to pretend his own dead. She saw the sadness in his eyes again – sadness about leaving behind his beloved ones without being able to say goodbye or explain himself. She recalled him pushing himself to admit that he wasn’t fine at all and that he needed help. Her help.<br/>
<br/>
<em>...You‘ve always counted and I‘ve always trusted you...</em><br/>
<br/>
Numerous times have those memories crossed her mind and now, as he expressed his gratefulness for her company, she felt the same connection as she had felt back then. The light bond between them that threatened to break at any time.<br/>
<br/>
She shyly shirked from his look.<br/>
<br/>
„You’re welcome“, she said silently and with a soft smile. Then she had an idea. „May I ask you for something?“<br/>
<br/>
„Of course“, Sherlock replied but looked skeptical.<br/>
<br/>
„I know that you composed it for John and Mary in the first place but would you play the Waltz for me again?“ Molly couldn’t tell if it was too much to ask for in his current state of mood. She would have totally understood if he denied her request.<br/>
<br/>
Sherlock hesitated for a moment but eventually got up and walked over to his violin case. He opened it carefully, stroked over the instrument, and took it out. He held it against the curve of his neck and turned to the window when he started to elicit the same soft sounds as he had done some hours ago at the wedding.<br/>
<br/>
Molly closed her eyes and moved her head to the rhythm. She was truly touched by the melody he had composed. When he finally finished, her eyes were full of tears.<br/>
<br/>
“How can a man who is so distant from his feelings and who puts clear, pure reason above everything, compose such a touching, beautiful, and profoundly sad melody like this one?”</p><p>This man, who on the one hand was as talented as he was clever, and on the other hand was so rude and arrogant in dealing with his fellow human beings, would always be a mystery to her. How could he combine so many opposing qualities in himself?</p><p>Sherlock didn’t answer her question and put the violin back into its case instead. Then he placed the recording device, which he had completed the piece with, on his desk, pushed the coffee table aside, and gave Molly his hand without saying anything.</p><p>
  <em>Was he really asking her for a dance right now?</em>
</p><p>Amazed, she took his hand and let him lead her to the device. He laid one hand on her waist and reached for her hand with the other. Molly felt her heartbeat quicken as he pulled her closer and hoped that it would remain hidden from the detective for a while.</p><p>It must have been years since she had last danced a waltz and suddenly she was struck with panic. Surely she had completely forgotten what to do with her feet!</p><p>"I-I'm not sure if I can do that", she stuttered and smiled embarrassingly. She had never been this close to him. His scent reached her nose and she could even feel the warmth emanating from his body. Or was it just the nervousness that made her cheeks blush?</p><p>“We don’t have any spectators, do we? Just let me guide you”, he said confidently. Well, he was her spectator in a way and that was enough to make her lose her nerves. Then, he pushed a button and the music started playing.</p><p>At first, he silently whispered the step's sequence to help her, but then they found their own rhythm and let themselves be led by the wave of sounds, hovering across the living room. Molly forgot her worry that she might step onto his feet. Sherlock acted as professional as a dance teacher with his unemotional look and his rigid posture, but as the melody was about to end, his gaze became… soft. Gentle, even. Molly’s knees weakened instantly.<br/>
<br/>
Those dark curls. That look, so deep and yet distant. This soft smile playing on his lips. And all of a sudden, she realized how much she was still attracted to him. How much she would have liked to bury her hand in his hair. How much she felt the need to lay her hand on his cheek and let her thumb run over his lips.</p><p>She cleared her throat when the waltz had faded and Sherlock hesitantly let go of her. <em>Hesitantly?</em></p><p>“Thank you, Sherlock. That was more than I expected.“<br/>
<br/>
“It was my pleasure, Molly Hooper”, he replied, and Molly was sure that only this man was able to create closeness instead of distance by saying her full name. Before she could get herself even deeper into a fix, she stepped back and said, “I think I should make my way home now. It’s quite late...“</p><p>Sherlock crossed his arms behind his back and gave her a simple nod. “Just as you wish“, he said.<br/>
<br/>
Everything inside Molly cried for the intimate moment to last and at the same time, she wanted nothing more but to get out of here and collect her thoughts before she could say or do anything stupid. She grabbed her handbag and walked over to the door, careful not to look into Sherlock‘s eyes.</p><p>“Please let me know when you got home safely. A woman in such a wardrobe should not spend too much time alone outside in the middle of the night.“</p><p>She assured him that she would send him a text message and left quickly. On the road, she hailed a cab and got in without turning around again. Thoughtless, she looked out the window and could have slapped herself.</p><p>What the hell had she been thinking when she came here?</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. At Barts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note to myself: Think twice before you start to translate a fic with some medical content :D I'm sorry for any incorrectnesses...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sherlock was sitting at the small table in his kitchen and flipped through the newspaper as he did every morning. During the wedding preparations and his duties as the Best Man, he had not taken any cases. He was happy that the big event was finally over since it allowed him to get back to normal and find mental distraction by working on solving crimes as usual.</p><p>He skipped the political part of the newspaper, sipped at his coffee, and ate the last bite of his sandwich. At least, Mrs. Hudson remained a part of the old order when she was complaining about the dust in his flat or bringing him a cup of freshly brewed tea every now and then.</p><p>Just as he wanted to delve into an article, he heard steps on the stairs. He would recognize that striking goose step of a soldier - always purposeful and full of vigor - among thousands.</p><p>"Good morning, Sherlock."</p><p>"Hello, John. Up so early?"</p><p>The deep circles under John's eyes revealed that he had slept too little and drunk too much. Nevertheless, it was already 10 o'clock, so actually, there could be no talk of "early".</p><p>"Yes, our ship departs at 11:30. Mary is currently packing the last few things and I wanted to say goodbye to you before we leave." After a short dramatic pause, in which he gave Sherlock a withering look, he added grumpily: "Because that's what friends do."</p><p>Sherlock understood the hint, of course, but decided not to go into the silent reproach that he had left the wedding party too early and without a word of farewell. Instead, he sipped at his coffee again and said:</p><p>"Oh, yes, honeymoon. The most beautiful time of married life, after that it’ll…“</p><p>"Sherlock! Stop it!", John yelled, now openly showing his displeasure.</p><p>"Sorry. Does Mary also pack a pregnancy test?" Judging by John's expression on his face, Sherlock again had said something inappropriate. He failed to see what was so wrong with his question, as he had already pointed out Mary's signs of pregnancy yesterday. John took a deep breath and swallowed his anger before he replied:</p><p>"No, she doesn't. She decided to see her gynecologist after our honeymoon. But you might be right. She is overdue."</p><p>"Of course I'm right", Sherlock replied and received another disapproving look.</p><p>"You're in peak form today, as I see", John noted, not without rolling his eyes.</p><p>„Uhm... well, John...I suppose I should wish you a wonderful and memorable honeymoon in..." He thought for a moment before he eventually asked with embarrassment: "Where are you actually going?"</p><p>John's expression slipped away by those words and he almost yelled when he replied, "What? You know the nine different wedding cakes we've tasted and you learned how to fold swans and the Opera of Sydney with napkins but you've forgotten where we are going to spend our honeymoon? Are you serious?"</p><p>“Well, John, you know very well that I’m very careful about which information I let into my mind, and I can't see what benefit I’d derive by archiving your travel plans in my memory.“, he explained. Sherlock watched his friend’s head getting redder with every syllable. ”You see, it's just like the solar sys-"</p><p>“Holy...! That's unbelievable!”, John cried and was visibly struggling to control himself. “I've assumed that I am a bit closer to you than the solar system, but I guess I was wrong!“</p><p>While John was fidgeting in front of him, Sherlock fixed his gaze on the table, then bit his lower lip, trying to suppress a giggle.</p><p>
  <em>Good old times. </em>
</p><p>John paused and looked at his friend puzzled. Sherlock's body was shaking with silent laughter.</p><p>"What's so funny?", he asked, still full of rage.</p><p>"You're acting like a pubescent teenager", Sherlock said giggling and pointed at him. "Your face!"</p><p>John looked at him in confusion at first but then couldn't help but grin, too. Sherlock wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, calmed down a little, and then said,</p><p>"Have fun on your trip to the Canary Islands. Take good care of Mary and the baby."</p><p>"Sherlock, I swear to you, I'll hit back someday!", John said, finally hugging his friend before he said goodbye.</p><p>Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Molly – all of them might be right about the change of friendships due to marriage. Sherlock could not deny that he looked ahead with a certain anxiety but at the same time, he appreciated very much that John wanted to prove otherwise with gestures like those.</p><p>When it comes to his best friend's choice of partner, he really couldn’t have wished for a better wife: Mary was very understanding in comparison to other women by letting John solve further cases with him and report about them later in his blog. There was nothing Sherlock could do than hope that it stayed this way. Now that Mary was obviously pregnant, John was not only supposed to be a good husband but also a loving father. Although Sherlock did not want to miss John in his life, he couldn't resist the cynical thought that he wouldn't have to face these negative emotions by having stayed the lone wolf that he actually was.</p><p>John was definitely his pressure point. And sometimes Sherlock couldn't tell if it was a blessing or a curse...</p><p>
~~~
</p><p>A gentle purr reached her ears, followed by a fluffy head that stroked along her hand. “Good morning, Toby”, Molly murmured and blinked, still drowsy with sleep. The cat jumped onto the sofa, looked for a nice place to lay down, and finally snuggled up to his mistress' belly. The purring engine was instantly operating at full stretch as she petted his fur and crawled him behind his ears.</p><p>She hadn’t slept well on the couch, but nevertheless, it had been a better option than sharing her bed with her drunk fiancé. His snoring had already been audible through the closed bedroom door when she had returned home.</p><p>Under normal circumstances, the noise would have bothered her but in this case, it had banished her briefly nascent worry that he had woken up and she had to explain herself.</p><p>Molly's back was aching which made her interrupt the short cuddle with her cat. Instead, she got up and did some quick exercises against the pain. "I know you're hungry", she said as the pet refused to leave her side. When she eventually made her way to the kitchen, he hurried ahead and sat down in front of his feeding bowl, mewing demandingly. He was greedily gulping down his breakfast while Molly opened the windows to let some air in. The London summer was relatively mild but people still used the cool breeze of the mornings to air their houses, go for a jog or do the more physically demanding tasks of the day.</p><p>Molly greeted her neighbor, who was watering her balcony plants, and then went into the bathroom to do her morning wash. Since drunks aroused little sympathy with her, she did not try to be particularly quiet. The TV was also running at the usual volume while she prepared a small breakfast for herself with the everyday clattering.</p><p>"You just can't let me sleep in peace, can you?"</p><p>With his face wrinkled, his hair ruffled, and aspirin in his hand, Tom scuffed into the kitchen, apparently looking for a water glass to throw in the pill.</p><p>"No", Molly said briefly and emphasized her reply by turning the TV even louder. "What the hell are you doing?", Tom barked at her and waved with the aspirin. "Do you know what that is? A little consideration would be nice."</p><p>"Yeah, that's what I thought last night, too", Molly replied unapologetically. She was seldom snippy or bitchy but in this case, she was still infuriated by Tom's last night's behavior and tried to give vent to her anger.</p><p>"Oh, come on, I had one too many. What's wrong with that? We were at a wedding!", he said annoyed.</p><p>"Right, but it was also the first evening with all of my friends and acquaintances. You made a fool of us, Tom! Can you actually remember anything?"</p><p>The rising rage and disappointment were almost impossible to control. She had proudly introduced Tom as her fiancé, showing everyone that Jill has finally found her Jack, and he had made them look nothing but ridiculous!</p><p>"Dear God, when we're out with my friends it didn't bother you at all..."</p><p>"Yes, Tom, because they are YOUR friends!", she interrupted him loudly and at the same moment realized what her words implied. A pause ensued in which Tom looked at her in disbelief.</p><p>"Ah. Are you saying that I'm not good enough for your friends?", he asked.</p><p>
  <em>Yes, I am. That's exactly what I mean.</em>
</p><p>"No, I didn't mean... that", Molly lied. "I only wished that you would have tried to leave a better impression..."</p><p>
  <em>Oh great! That statement was better, wasn't it?</em>
</p><p>"I actually thought you said "yes" to me because you accept me for who I am."</p><p>There was something challenging, if not furtive, in his voice. And disappointment.</p><p>Since Molly couldn't think of anything adequate to respond, she kept silent and apparently made a mistake by doing so. From the look on his face, she could tell that he was hurt. That he expected her to prove him otherwise and stand by him.</p><p>Without a further word, he left the room and closed the door behind him. Molly sighed heavily and turned off the TV. That didn't go well, did it?</p><p>~~~</p><p>"This tumor tissue just came out of surgery. Our task is to determine as quickly as possible whether it is benign or malignant", Molly said and put the bowl of tissue samples on the table in front of the students.</p><p>“Elisabeth, please get us the dissection tools and the slides. James, you'll call the surgeon after the examination, and Sebastian, I want you to tell me how to differ a benign tumor from a malignant one."</p><p>Elisabeth, an average blonde who looked more feminine than her way of talking suggested got the required items while James crossed his arms in front of his chest sighing, and Sebastian stutteringly answered:</p><p>“Benign tumors. . . uh. . . grow slowly, are well-differentiated and do not metastasize. T-the malignant ones, on the other hand, grow rapidly, metastasize frequently, and... um -"</p><p>“Are only poorly-differentiated”, James cut in.</p><p>"Right, Sebastian", Molly praised him but refrained from blaming James for his interjection. She had done it so many times and it had never made sense. He was smart and would become a capable pathologist but he never missed an opportunity to show off. Sebastian was certainly as clever but he lacked self-confidence. He let himself be intimidated far too quickly and reminded Molly a little bit of herself. Maybe that's why she liked him.</p><p>All four of them prepared the tissue samples equally, went to the microscopes, and examined them. All four came to the same result: the tumor was malignant, but the surgeon had removed the invasive parts very carefully. While James was calling the responsible surgeon as he was told, Molly went through the list of the deceased to be examined.</p><p>“After a break, we will autopsy Mrs. Smith who was found in her flat only a few hours ago by the police. Probably dead from suffocation – we'll know for sure after the autopsy. We meet again here at 1 pm”, she said, leaving the pathology. After hanging her coat in the ladies' locker room, she rushed out with her colleagues to get herself something for lunch.</p><p>Usually, she prepared her meal in advance to take it with her but after the argument with Tom, she hadn't been in the mood to cook anything.</p><p>The engagement.</p><p>She shouldn't think about her engagement. Her promise to marry Tom someday. She had barely slept last night. Again and again had the memories of the evening with Sherlock crossed her mind. She didn't know how to deal with Tom or what to tell him.</p><p>She sighed heavily when she ordered a noodle box with meat and vegetables and waited. Actually, she wasn't hungry at all and the work at Barts was a welcome distraction to her private problems. She looked at her phone. It showed two messages from Tom:</p><p>I CAN'T STAND THE SILENCE ANY LONGER. CAN'T WE BURY THE HATCHET?</p><p>And an hour later:</p><p>YOU'RE RIGHT. I SHOULD HAVE CONTAINED MYSELF AT THE FIRST NIGHT WITH YOUR FRIENDS. APOLOGIES &lt;3</p><p>She stared at her phone, turned it in her hands, and wondered what she should answer. She felt so empty.</p><p>"Here you are, Madame", the saleswoman's voice jolted her out of her thoughts. Molly took her meal, looked for a bench to sit on, and then picked at her food without appetite. Although she was relatively dispassionate, she decided to eliminate at least one problem of her life and called Tom.</p><p>"Hey", he said cautiously when he picked up.</p><p>"Hey. I couldn't reply during work. I've got some students around this week."</p><p>
  <em>Great. Let's start with some unnecessary justifications.</em>
</p><p>"No problem. I thought so...", he replied.</p><p>"Uhm... I didn't treat you well yesterday. I'm sorry", Molly apologized tiredly and hoped that it'll do to calm the waves again.</p><p>"Forgiven and forgotten", he replied and she could almost hear his soft smile. This was one trait of his character that she really appreciated about him: when they had an argument from time to time, it was always Tom who tried to resolve the conflict quickly without being resentful. Maybe he wasn't such a misfit after all and to her surprise, Molly felt a little closer to him again. She realized that she hadn't said yes to Tom for no reason and remembered how happy she had been when he had proposed to her.</p><p>Sherlock might be able to weaken her knees with his perceptive mind, with his dangerous profession, and with his cheekbones, but they would never reach that point on where she was standing right now with Tom. She would never even get a half-hearted kiss from him, let alone any kind of love confession. He probably wouldn't have recognized her at all if they hadn't had to work together from time to time.</p><p>"Let's have a nice evening together. I'll cook something, we'll have a glass of wine, maybe we can also watch city lights at night. What do you think?", Tom asked softly. Molly agreed before they exchanged a few more trivialities. After she'd hung up again, she ate some of her noodles and then went back to Barts, feeling a tiny little bit relieved.</p><p>~~~</p><p>"Suffocation. What are the external signs of suffocation?", Molly asked around.</p><p>"Petechiae on the conjunctiva, the eyeball, and the eyelids. Furthermore on the face and the mucous membranes of mouth and pharynx. They are also found in the lungs where they are called "Tardieu spots", James replied immediately.</p><p>"Cyanosis is mainly caused by strangulation but hard to distinguish from postmortem lividity. Partial swelling of the face is also a sign that occurs as a cause of violence", Elisabeth added.</p><p>"Very good!", Molly praised the medics-to-be.</p><p>"Right, but this deceased does not show any of these signs. Then why does the police assume suffocation?", Sebastian asked with a frown.</p><p>"Can anyone answer this question?", Molly asked the other two and, as expected, James immediately took the floor again. "Because bolus death - or suffocation by the swallowing of unchewed pieces such as meat or other objects - is to be distinguished. It causes reflex bradycardia, which leads to cardiac arrest."</p><p>“Yes, and because the report says that the woman was found at her dining table”, Molly stated. ”There were leftovers on her plate. Windows and doors had been locked, which excludes acts of violence. A neighbour, she had regular appointments with, called the police because Mrs. Smith did not appear at their games night, nor did she answer her phone or the doorbell.“ She waved with the file in her hand. ”So what do we expect?”</p><p>"That we will find the bolus in the pharynx or esophagus during autopsy", Sebastian answered.</p><p>"Exactly. But at first, as always, we will finish the external examination before we open the body", Molly said and was then observing the students during their work. When they had finished, Molly started the autopsy and made the first cut. The organs were removed and examined, the results recorded. Molly adhered strictly to the textbook to not confuse her students and finally arrived at the esophagus and the throat.</p><p>"Well, let's see where we have it", she said, inspecting and palpating the area thoroughly. Then she repeated the process and stumbled. "There's nothing here", she said, and suddenly felt insecure. What was going on here? Suffocation was rather difficult to detect but the internal organs had not given her any indication that there might be another cause of death. She cleared her throat with embarrassment and then truthfully said:</p><p>"That doesn't meet my expectations. I need to think about it again. Maybe the woman had died of something else…“</p><p>Since the end of the workday was only a few minutes away anyway, Molly said goodbye to her students and went into the ladies' locker room. She knew by her intuition that something was wrong. She was a good pathologist, something like that had never happened in her professional life before.</p><p>When she opened her locker, she caught sight of a note that had not been there when she had returned from lunch. She took it out and suddenly felt a lump forming in her throat and her heartbeat quicken. With trembling hands, she unfolded it and read the message:</p><p>LET'S SEE IF THIS NUT IS TOO TOUGH FOR YOU TO CRACK, DR. HOOPER.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Baker Street</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sherlock had scanned the daily newspaper, checked his e-mails, and read the news on his mobile phone but hadn't found any hint to a potential case whatsoever. Most of it was boring at most, but absolutely nothing promised to be interesting. Apparently, the criminals of London were on vacation in that glorious weather.</p><p>His last hope was Lestrade, to whom he was just paying a visit at Yard.</p><p>"Sorry, Sherlock. It's surprisingly quiet right now. I have no case that would even come close to meeting your competences", Lestrade apologized and leaned back in his office chair.</p><p>“You rarely have”, Sherlock replied arrogantly. He was disappointed and let himself fall onto the nearest chair. He needed a case. Soon. He hadn‘t touched his cocaine yet but he won't be able to resist if this lean period lasts any longer.</p><p>“Maybe it’s just the calm before the storm. Maybe there’s something big going on right now”, he thought aloud, and for a short moment, he had this glow in his eyes again, which flared up every time he was facing a really tricky case. A brilliant crime that challenged him.</p><p>“Sherlock, it‘s a bit inappropriate to long for the greatest crimes this country has ever had to handle”, Lestrade said, giving Sherlock a reproving look.</p><p>Just when Sherlock was about to apologize half-heartedly, the phone in his pocket started vibrating. He looked at the display and rolled his eyes. It was Molly.</p><p>“Hello, Molly, I’m still fine -"</p><p>“Sherlock, where are you?”, she cut him off. She seemed anxious if not frightened. “I’m at Scotland Yard. What happened?” He jumped to his feet, paying her all his attention.</p><p>“Can we discuss this in person, please? I’m at Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson let me in.“</p><p>„I’ll be right there”, he said, ending the phone call. Without saying goodbye, he left the police station and got into the next cab.<br/>
<br/>
~~~</p><p><br/>
“Have a seat, Molly”, Sherlock said, pointing to the client‘s chair. He sat down in his armchair and noticed the paleness of her face and a piece of paper in her restless hands. “What brought you here? Judged by your state, I assume it’s not an act of friendship this time.”</p><p>“Tom will be here soon, too”, she explained without answering his question. “We had plans for tonight and I told him on the phone that I had to see you at first. Well, he could tell by my voice that something was wrong and insisted to get on his way immediately.“</p><p>She had barely finished her sentence when they heard someone rushing up the stairs and entering the apartment.</p><p>"Molly, what happened?", Tom asked slightly out of breath and put a hand on her shoulder, anxiety reflecting on his face. He didn't bother with greeting Sherlock.</p><p>"Hello Tom", Sherlock said as casually as possible. "I'm sure we'll find out soon."</p><p>Tom pulled away and sat down in John's old armchair. Sherlock couldn't help but find his behaviour pretty offensive. Nevertheless, he suppressed a remark. Tom was not his matter of interest right now.</p><p>"I… um... I don't know if I‘ve just overreacted a bit or got fooled somehow but I wanted to know what you think", she said to Sherlock and eventually told them both about her day at Barts. She handed Sherlock the note from her locker and was then fumbling with her fingers nervously.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s a bit strange indeed and I think we should get to the bottom of it. I do not assume that you are in serious danger. If so, he - or whoever we are dealing with - would have left a different message. Nevertheless and for your safety, I insist that you stay with me temporarily until the matter is sorted out”, Sherlock said calmly and objectively.</p><p>“Stay here with you?”, Tom repeated his words in disbelief.</p><p>“That’s what I just said”, Sherlock replied and looked at the ridiculous copy of himself without batting an eye.</p><p>„She’s my fiancee, I’m sure that I am able to take care of her!”</p><p>“I’m a longtime friend and no, you can’t.“ Sherlock was annoyed. Love was and remained a dangerous error of human nature. Just like false pride.</p><p>“I have a gun to protect her!”, Tom cried, wildly gesticulating.</p><p>“I faked my death and smashed the biggest criminal network ever known completely on my own. I have several guns at my disposal to protect Molly and no qualms about using them.“</p><p>“B-But I… I sleep with her!”</p><p>It needed a lot to silence someone like Sherlock but now he was truly taken aback, frowning in irritation.</p><p>
  <em>Good Lord, there he was again. Mr. Meat Dagger…</em>
</p><p>Molly’s cheeks blushed and she shirked from Tom's help-seeking look. Sherlock closed his eyes for a brief moment and turned to Molly."Is that an argument?", he asked. This was definitely not his area.</p><p>"Well… In a way. It connects people", she explained weakly.</p><p>"Yes, and afterwards people dis-connect again", he responded and shook his head uncomprehendingly. "Anyway... As you know, John's room is still vacant. I also suggest limiting your interactions to the bare minimum until we know who's behind all this."</p><p>Sherlock rose from his armchair and went into the kitchen. At least for him, the issue was settled.</p><p>“Molly, why don’t you say-", Tom began.</p><p>“Maybe Sherlock is right”, she interrupted him and could instantly see the disappointment reflecting on his face. He must feel like a useless man who was not able to take care of his girl. With her statement, she had probably confirmed his feeling and stabbed him in the back once more. Tom‘s face darkened.</p><p>“It’s only for a few days. Sherlock is the smartest detective in England, and I won’t be any safer than here at Baker Street. That should be our top priority, shouldn’t it?”, she whispered, desperately hoping that she wouldn’t cause another fight - especially not in front of Sherlock.</p><p>Tom opened his mouth but then closed it again, reluctantly nodding instead. Downhearted from his defeat, he gave in and assured Molly that he would get her some clothes and take good care of Toby before he left.</p><p>"I hope the argument hadn't been too bad", Sherlock stated when they were alone again. Molly looked at him in surprise.</p><p>"What argument? What are you talking about?"</p><p>"Come on, Molly, it's obvious. You expressed your displeasure with Tom's behavior when you came around recently. I don't think you'd been able to keep it all to yourself. The fact that you two had plans for tonight after this busy weekend indicates that you both had a fight and wanted to sort it out today. The cautious withdrawal of your fiancé in order to not provoke further conflicts only confirms my assumption."</p><p>Molly didn't know what to say. She felt quite uncomfortable to admit that things in her relationship were not as easy as they should be. "We've had a little dispute, that's all", she then said with little credibility. Sherlock gave her a significant look but didn‘t press her further.</p><p>"Cup of tea before we go on?", he asked instead.</p><p>When Molly agreed with a nod, Sherlock went to the door and shouted down the stairs, "Mrs. Hudson! Tea and some sandwiches, please!"</p><p>Molly’s jaw dropped. She rushed past him and downstairs. “I apologize for his behaviour, Mrs. Hudson. He’s so rude sometimes!”, Molly said to the landlady, who had already put the kettle on.</p><p>“Oh Dear, you’re still here!”, she said. „I’ve told him so many times that I’m not his housekeeper, you know. Give him an inch and he will take a yard. But just between us: I’m alone down here and I’m happy to make myself useful from time to time.“ She smiled warmly.</p><p>„Let me at least give you a hand", Molly said, and gradually got used to the idea of temporarily living under the same roof with Sherlock Holmes. She was a little anxious since she didn't know how everyday life with him would look like nor how to behave in his presence. She had given him shelter two years ago but Sherlock had more or less only been around to sleep. They had hardly seen each other and her apartment had been her own little kingdom, in which she was free to do things as she pleased. But now it was the other way around…</p><p>Will they watch TV together in the evenings? Very unlikely. When did he usually get up in the morning and was she supposed to make him coffee? When would he use the bathroom? Could she make herself useful and keep his apartment nice and tidy?</p><p>Questions upon questions, but a little bit of joy was mixed into her concerns as well. She'd get to know him better. Experience his quirks. She’d be a little closer to him than she was when they were working together at Bart's pathology. Suddenly, she noticed that she was grinning from ear to ear and bit her lower lip.</p><p>
  <em>A little less conspicuous, please!</em>
</p><p>"Will Sherlock help you?", Mrs. Hudson asked while they were garnishing the sandwiches.</p><p>"Oh, he’ll see what he can do. I'm going to stay here for a few days until we're sure that I’m safe", Molly explained and felt the need to return a favor for Mrs. Hudson's hospitality at some time.</p><p>"That's wonderful! I'm sure not being alone up there anymore will do him good", she said warmly. Molly on herself wasn't so sure about that but smiled friendly before she put the sandwiches on the tray.</p><p><br/>
~~~</p><p><br/>
"Well, Molly, who might wish you ill?", Sherlock asked after dinner. They had only been briefly interrupted by Tom, who had carried a bag up to John's old room and then left again.</p><p>"I have no idea", she answered after thinking for a while.</p><p>"I'm not surprised", Sherlock said, putting his palms together.</p><p>
  <em>What was he implying? Was this his arrogant you-see-but-you-do-not-observe-with-your-funny-little-brains-behavior?</em>
</p><p>When Sherlock noticed Molly's peeved look, he quickly added, "I meant to say that you are the most innocent person I've ever met. I don't know if you would even be able to offend someone so badly that he or she seeks revenche."</p><p>
  <em>Uhm, was that statement better than the one before?</em>
</p><p>“Listen: When you go back to Barts tomorrow, please pay attention to everything that seems suspicious to you but try to behave as normal as possible. I, for my part, will visit Lestrade once again to get the detailed police report about the deceased. After that, I’ll come to you to take a look at the corpse.“</p><p>That – at least - sounded like a plan. Molly nodded.</p><p>“Thanks for your help, Sherlock“, she then said hesitantly.</p><p>“I haven’t solved the case yet.“</p><p>“No, but I’m grateful that you take it. And that I'm under your protection…”, she said shyly and looked down to the floor insecurely. Why was it always so hard to stand his gaze?</p><p>“Molly, you don’t have to thank me. You’ve done far more for me than I did for you and I’m happy for the opportunity to show my gratitude for once.“</p><p>There had been countless moments in which Sherlock had rejected her that Molly had a hard time dealing with those few in which he paid her respect or expressed his gratitude. She looked at him awkwardly and then said: “I’ll go to the bathroom. I-I mean, I’m tired and would like to get ready for bed.“</p><p>
  <em>Well done, Molly Hooper! Just destroy the moment.</em>
</p><p>She sighed as she headed for the loo. Hopefully, she would behave a little more confidently in the next few days...</p><p>When she'd finished her quick wash, she wished Sherlock good night and went to bed. For a long time, she tossed and turned sleeplessly since she couldn’t stop thinking about all the things that had happened during the day. Only when she drew her attention to the noises outside and to the moonlight that was shining through the curtains did she finally fall asleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Investigations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feels, ladies and gentlemen ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As agreed, Sherlock was on his way to Bart's hospital to take a look at the corpse. His visit at Scotland Yard had gone very well and uncomplicated. Before his arrival, he had already informed Lestrade via text message which file he needed to see and got it as soon as he'd entered the inspector’s office.</p><p>The detailed report, however, did not provide any additional information to the one that Molly had seen. All the windows and doors had been locked. There was no evidence of a violent intrusion into the apartment, let alone any evidence of a murder. Mrs. Smith was just an old lady, who had apparently been eating her lunch too greedily and unfortunately suffocated by it. She was found next to her dining table between the cutlery that had fallen off the table due to her panicky movements when she was desperately trying to breathe.</p><p>Sherlock had even had the opportunity to speak to the inspector, who had found the woman but the conversation didn’t reveal anything new. Boring, nothing exciting, but still according to his expectations. If a potential killer really wanted to threaten Molly or send her a message via a corpse, he certainly wouldn't have done it this way. If so, he would have had to make sure that the corpse was taken to Barts and not to any other hospital, and that Molly - of all colleagues - would do the autopsy.<br/>
<br/>
Furthermore, he would have had to enter the lady's locker room unnoticed, find out which of the lockers belonged to Molly, and leave his note. It was unlikely. Very unlikely, but Sherlock, as always, already had a theory. He was just waiting for the examination to back it up.</p><p>With quick steps, he entered the hospital after paying the driver and getting out of the cab. He knew the corridors inside out and made his way to the lab quickly where he found Molly at one of the microscopes.</p><p>“Hey Sherlock, how did it go?”, she greeted him but kept her voice down so that no one had a chance to catch her words.</p><p>“As expected”, he answered briefly and then, without loosing time, asked her to take him to the corpse. He followed her to the morgue and examined the cold body of Mrs. Smith after Molly had laid her out in front of the detective. She was observing him curiously. He focused entirely on the upper intestinal tract and the pharynx. With his disposable gloves on, he palpated the esophagus thoroughly. He then stopped and brought his face closer to the body to inspect the part even more carefully.</p><p>"There we have it", he said self-satisfied, pointing to the section where the pharynx passed into the esophagus. Molly came closer, examined the area again, and said with a frown, "I can’t see anything."</p><p>"Exactly", Sherlock replied, confusing her even more. "There's nothing, but there was something. At this part, the organ is a little stretched. Do you see the unnatural discoloration? Whatever Mrs. Smith had swallowed and eventually died of, it had been right there but was removed."</p><p>"But why?"</p><p>"I don't know yet, but you should take a closer look at your social environment", Sherlock said and went on to explain: "The one, who posed this mystery to you, works at Barts too. Anything else doesn't make sense."</p><p>Molly looked at him in disbelief. She suddenly felt queasy by the thought that she was probably facing the perpetrator on a daily basis. What kind of a bad joke was that?</p><p>"Well then?" she asked. "I still have no idea who might be behind all this…"</p><p>Sherlock took off his gloves and threw them into the bin, then he came closer with his arms crossed behind his back and the collar of his coat turned up. His shirt was stretching over his chest.</p><p>
  <em>Sexy.</em>
</p><p>"Fingerprints", he simply said.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Fingerprints. We’ll certainly find fingerprints on the note from your locker. Perhaps an analysis of the handwriting is enough to track down that mastermind."</p><p>His suggestion sounded plausible, yet Molly was struggling to concentrate.</p><p>"Are there checklists or reports down here where you can find handwritten notes?", the detective helped her out.</p><p>"Yes, sure… Somewhere."</p><p>"Well, then. I think you’ve got a task to accomplish", Sherlock said before he headed to the exit, leaving the pathologist behind.<br/>
<br/>
~~~</p><p><br/>
"Another note?" Sherlock asked immediately when Molly arrived at Baker Street after the end of her shift. Her face showed the same paleness as the day before. Without asking how he knew, she rummaged in her pocket and handed him another piece of paper.</p><p>TOO DIFFICULT TO FIND OUT ON YOUR OWN?</p><p>Molly let herself fall onto the sofa with a sigh and stroked over her face.</p><p>"Great, it plays into our hands", Sherlock said almost happily.</p><p>"How?", Molly asked and seemed tired of it all.</p><p>"Obviously, we were seen together today. And since we only met in pathology, it must be someone from there - just as I've assumed. Furthermore, we now have another message to analyze for fingerprints and to compare the handwriting with."</p><p>"Someone could have seen us together here as well. It's not hard to find out that I come here every day", Molly objected.</p><p>"Possible, but for that, the perpetrator would have had to catch parts of our conversation and then bother to smuggle his messages into the lady‘s locker room at Barts. Too complicated."</p><p>Molly just nodded resignedly whereas Sherlock was apparently getting excited.</p><p>"Have you been able to find handwritten notes of your colleagues who are equal to the typeface here?", Sherlock asked and pointed to the note.</p><p>"No, unfortunately not. This afternoon, a colleague fell ill and I had to examine an above-average number of tissue samples during surgery. There was far too much going on to look for it inconspicuously", she explained.<br/>
<br/>
“I do not assume that you are in serious danger anyway. It can wait until tomorrow, I guess. Are you hungry?”</p><p>“No, I’m just exhausted. I think I’ll take a shower first”, she said and got up again. Sherlock didn't respond but let his gaze follow her when Molly left the room and disappeared into the bathroom. Her sad mood did not go unnoticed - not even by him. While he was listening to the running water from his shower, he went to the fridge and took the salad that Mrs. Hudson had put in there. It was enough for the two of them, so he took off one portion and sat down at the dining table. After he had tried the first bites, he suddenly heard a dull bang and Molly‘s following curse.</p><p>He headed for the bathroom and knocked on the door.</p><p>“Are you alright, Molly?”</p><p>“Um… yes, I think so”, she replied but failed to suppress a painful moan.</p><p>“It’s not what it sounds like”, Sherlock contradicted. Silence. After a short pause, he decided, “Molly? I’m going to open the door now.”</p><p>He pressed down the door handle and entered cautiously. Molly was sitting in front of the bathtub, her body covered with nothing but a towel, her face contorted with pain. As far as Sherlock could tell, she had dried her upper body, but her feet were still wet.</p><p>"Fall in the tub?", he asked and hurried to her. Molly bit her lower lip and nodded.</p><p>"I slipped", she said through gritted teeth, rubbing her ankle.</p><p>"Okay, hold the towel, I'll help you up."</p><p>He wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled her up to her feet. Then standing in front of her, he told her to hold on to him. "Look at me", he said as he took the towel, that was loosely hanging before her body, in his hands, and wrapped it tightly around her chest. He kept his eyes fixed on hers since he didn't want her to feel... exposed. The warmth and dampness of her shower started to make him sweat. With her arm around his neck and his hand on her waist, he helped her to limb out of the bathroom and led her to the couch, embracing the cooler temperature of his living room. She put her foot on the coffee table and sighed heavily.</p><p>“Can I get you something to wear?” Sherlock asked, pushing aside the imagination of her naked body, and when Molly told him where to find her sleeping clothes, he turned around and went up to John’s room.</p><p>~~~</p><p>Her arms wrapped around her body, she was sitting on the couch, and could hardly hold back her tears. All of a sudden, it was too much. Way too much. She barely had time to take a deep breath and regain her composure when Sherlock returned to the living room.</p><p>“Thank you”, she said, trying to avoid his gaze as he handed her the clothes.</p><p>“Are you… crying?”</p><p>
  <em>How very discreet and compassionate…</em>
</p><p>If Molly – as emotional as she was right now - had tried to answer him, her voice would have broken and the tears no longer been controlled. So she kept silent and looked towards the window, still trying to recollect herself. Sherlock was standing next to her insecurely and apparently didn't know what to do.</p><p>After some hesitation, he settled down next to her.</p><p>"Do you… Uhm... want to talk?", he asked and after a deep breath, Molly replied, "You don't have to bother, Sherlock. You wouldn't understand."</p><p>Desperately trying to do anything at all, she unfolded her sleeping clothes and tugged at her pants.</p><p>"Explain it to me, then", he said in his humming baritone.</p><p>She paused in her movements and stared at him skeptically, looking into his attentive eyes like the clients did when they told him their misery.</p><p>"It's just becoming too much to handle for me", she eventually said.</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Well, apparently my expertise as a doctor is not good enough to tell if someone is just playing a stupid trick on me. Instead, I'm running to you like a frightened chicken, almost pissing my pants in fear. I don't seem to be able to find a suitable man for my life either, because, after last weekend, I feel like I'm in a relationship with the biggest idiot of whole London. I'm not even able to get out of the bathtub on my own. Instead, I'm sitting here next to you, naked and with an aching ankle, and can't do anything but cry!"</p><p>Her voice threatened to break as she uttered the words and quickly wiped away a tear from the corner of her eyes.</p><p>“Well, I think you are very hard on yourself. At least, that’s not what I see”, Sherlock replied and leaned back. His body was still turned towards Molly, his elbow resting on the backrest of his sofa and his fingertips steadying his head. When Molly looked at him questioningly, he added:</p><p>“Listen, you work in the basement of a hospital with a manipulated corpse and receive messages you do not yet understand. Such a scenario is a good start for a horror film. Your fear only alarms you, which can make a crucial difference in facing danger. The fact that you came to me right away merely shows that you are concerned about your safety and that you attribute the ability to me to restore it. Furthermore, there is no indication for your lack of expertise whatsoever. If so, I wouldn't be working with you. And as for your choice of partner, I don't think I have a right to judge, but I'm sure you're not the only woman on an amorous odyssey. Slipping in the bathtub is either a mishap or an expression of your restless thoughts that limit your ability to concentrate and tears are just an attempt of your body to calm down again. Long story short: everything is fine with you."</p><p>He looked at her attentively. Again, she fumbled with her fingers, but at least seemed to have stopped crying.</p><p>“Sometimes I wish to be a bit like you, you know. A little more rational and less emotional”, she replied quietly.</p><p>“Don’t you say that“, replied just as softly. This certainly wasn’t the intention behind his statement.</p><p>“Why not? You never miss an opportunity to point out that feelings are a dangerous disadvantage of human nature.“</p><p>Molly looked him right in the eye. She hasn’t shown any inclination to get rid of the wet towel yet.</p><p>“Feelings make people predictable or lead to errors in their behaviour. I can't take those risks in my job. What I need is a clear mind that works even when people around me are threatened or die. It may work for me, Molly, but not for you. In other words, sometimes I get the impression that you - with less criminal background than me - are doing the same thing like me, but with a different strategy."</p><p>Molly frowned by his words. "How do you mean?"</p><p>"I see through people by deducing and noticing details about them. I'm methodical. You, on the other hand, often see through people in advance, because you are incredibly empathic and have a good insight of human nature. Your empathy and your emotionality make you look behind the facade of others quickly. Let's take Mrs Hudson as an example. When I told her from up here to bring us some sandwiches and tea, I would only have noticed by the look on her face that I'd acted inappropriately and alienated her. Whereas you already knew the impact of my words on her in advance and stormed down the stairs to apologize for my behavior. You took care of her.“</p><p>Molly had never seen herself like this before, but now, as she listened carefully to Sherlock’s words, she had to admit that he probably wasn’t entirely wrong. She was surprised that he thought about her this way and felt her heart warming. Sherlock certainly wasn't the first to address with conversations like that but to her surprise, he had managed to make her feel better for the moment.</p><p>“Molly Hooper, listen carefully, because I will not repeat these words ever again“, he continued.</p><p>
  <em>There it was again. Her full name.</em>
</p><p>"I would be horrified if you were as cold and emotionless as I am. I have to deal with the most unscrupulous criminals on this planet. Criminals, who come up with increasingly pervider abominations and in whose clutches I have often been subjected to psychological and physical violence. It is easy for me to lose faith in people and humanity in general. As I already mentioned the other day, you are the most innocent, most human and most loving being I have ever met, and you are regularly giving me back that faith."</p><p>For a long time, she looked into his blue-green eyes, which suddenly weren't as cold and clear as they usually were. His words echoed through her head and she was busy realizing their meaning. What he had just said was probably the greatest compliment he's ever given her.</p><p>"Sherlock, I...", she began but was too stunned to finish the sentence adequately. The same soft smile, like on the day when they had been investigating in a case together and Sherlock had invited her to dinner without further ado, was playing around the corner of his mouth as he now leaned over to breathe a kiss on her cheek.</p><p>Again she smelled the same perfume, again she could feel his soft curls on her skin. On the spur of the moment, she followed an inner intuition and turned her head. Just a tiny little bit but enough that his lips no longer hit her cheek but touched her lips.</p><p>Startled, Sherlock pulled away a few inches - just so that the kiss was interrupted. His face was still so near to Molly's that she could feel his breath on her skin. He looked at her, his eyes wide open and his lips slightly parted. Within seconds, not just Molly's cheeks but her entire face reddened, her heart beating madly in her chest.</p><p>"I-I'm sorry", she stammered and bit her lower lip in embarrassment. Sherlock cleared his throat but didn't move any further away from her. The silence was incredibly hard to bear. Molly felt even more ashamend with every second that ticked away.</p><p>Sherlock eventually said: "Thank you for substantiating my statement so forcefully. As I see, you're at least as surprised at the short impulse you've been following as I am. You don't premeditate things like that, you just let yourself be guided. By your emotions."</p><p>Then he came closer and kissed her again. It was neither a passionate kiss nor a loving one. It was more like a moment he willingly gave her. A moment in which she was allowed to follow her inner voice and just be. A moment that lasted long enough to get memorized and locked in her heart forever. His soft lips, his warmth, his closeness.</p><p>When he backed off again, Molly tried to regain a minimum of sovereignty by closing her open mouth and giving her face a somewhat composed expression. Uncertain about what to say or do, she grabbed her sleeping clothes.</p><p>“I better put them on now.“</p><p>“Fair enough. You can have my bed tonight. Save yourself the pain of climbing up the stairs with that ankle. I'll sleep on the couch”, he replied as emotionless and self-controlled as ever. Molly couldn't tell if he was escaping the situation by heading for the bathroom or if he only wanted to prep for bed as well...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Dinner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Time for some fluff, isn't it? :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>„Have you got plans for tonight?“ Molly asked excitedly. She'd decided to take a day off since her ankle was still aching, meaning that she had to let slip another opportunity to look for further evidence in pathology. Due to the slow development of their investigation, Sherlock also had some spare time to fill.</p><p>„I'll see Lestrade once more to check both notes for fingerprints. Apart from that, I don't have any plans yet“, he replied.</p><p>He was sitting in his armchair and took a nip of his coffee. His messy hair fell into his forehead, which Molly found both sexy and cheeky at the same time. How did some people manage to look so good even before their morning wash?</p><p>The blanket, which he had slept with, was still laying on the sofa rumpled. It probably smelled of him just as the blanket and the pillow and the sheets in his bed. Oh, she was lulled in his scent when she'd finally gone to bed, recalling Sherlock's words and the surprising kiss over and over again. Thoughts, that kept her from falling asleep way to long. She'd ignored the low voice of her conscience, constantly blaming her for her behavior and had buried her nose deep into his pillow instead until the first rays of sunshine had tickled her awake again.</p><p>„Make sure you won't be engaged otherwise tonight“, she demanded in a boost of self-confidence.</p><p>„I beg your pardon?“ Sherlock raised his eyebrow.</p><p>„I'm going to invite Mrs. Hudson for dinner tonight.“</p><p>„For what occasion?“ Apparently, he wasn't sure what to think of her deciding over his head and on his evening.</p><p>„There is no special occasion but I think you should show your gratitude for her kindness from time to time“, she stated. Sherlock frowned in confusion.</p><p>„I'm paying my rent and I made sure that her husband got hanged. I've even put up a shelf in her apartment once...“ His explanation wasn't at all convincing. Molly wouldn't let him off the hook so easily.</p><p>„I think her list is much longer than yours.“</p><p>„You can hardly walk, Molly. How are you going to do all the necessary errands?“, he asked. Molly, who was sitting across from him in John's old chair, smiled challengingly.</p><p>„I'm glad you asked.“</p><p>She leaned over to Sherlock and pressed a piece of paper against his chest, which she had just pulled out of her trouser's pocket.</p><p>„Here's everything I need. You can take care of it right after your appointment with Lestrade“, she said, impatiently waiting for his reaction. He looked at her in disbelief but then his expression changed to that of a teenager who is forced to mow the front yard. Molly was surprised that he seemed to give in so quickly since she'd expected him to resist.</p><p>„When women set their minds on doing something...“, Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. His resignation made Molly smile from ear to ear. Without saying anything else, he sipped at his coffee again, got up, and went for the bathroom.</p><p>Letting Molly move in temporarily had by far been the smartest idea of his superbrain...</p><p>***</p><p>During Sherlock's absence, Molly got herself ready for the day and then slowly went downstairs to invite Mrs. Hudson to dinner. The landlady was truly worried when she noticed Mollys slow and cautious movements. She had bandaged her swollen ankle to stabilize it a little. If she was careful, chances were pretty high to return to Barts by tomorrow nevertheless.</p><p>When Molly was cleaning the kitchen, she happened to notice that Sherlock in fact owned enough cooking utensils for her to prepare the planned meals. Supporting her ankle on a kitchen chair, she started to rinse off the dirty dishes. She wasn't done yet when Sherlock entered his apartment, holding three shopping bags in his hand. He gave Molly a withering look and was clearly angry.</p><p>„For God's sake, Sherlock! My list wasn't that long, was it?“, she said, pointing to the bags in his hands. Without interrupting eye contact, Sherlock just let them drop on the floor and got rid of his coat by throwing it onto the sofa carelessly. Molly could see his carotid artery pulsing.</p><p>„No, it wasn't. Maybe it should have been since it didn't contain any necessary information!“, he hissed through gritted teeth. Molly frowned with irritation.</p><p>„How do you mean?“</p><p>„Six tomatoes? Really? Which type? To this day, I didn't know how many different types of tomatoes exist! Roma tomatoes, green tomatoes, grape tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, even beefsteak tomatoes. I've got you six of each type available.“</p><p>Molly bit her lower lip. Her initial anxiety gradually gave way to amusement.</p><p>„Not to mention toilet paper! Two-layered, three-layered, four-layered. On each roll a different number of sheets, in each pack a different number of rolls. Molly Hooper. Do. Not. Do. This. To. Me. Ever. Again!“</p><p>His eyes were filled with rage, his hands clenched to a fist. The sight of him would have been scary but instead of calming the waves, Molly couldn't help but giggle. She imagined him standing in front of one of the shelves, doing highly complex mental arithmetics to figure out the best price-performance ratio, taking average toilet usage into account as well.</p><p>She clasped her hand over her mouth which didn't help her at all to stop laughing.</p><p>„What the...Are you making fun of me?“, he asked and narrowed his eyes to slits.</p><p>„Oh Sherlock, you're the smartest detective in England but overwhelmed with the everyday problems of ordinary people. Who does your shopping usually?“</p><p>Molly's unexpected reaction surprised him and caused his anger to fade, at least partly. Sherlock cleared his throat, then he regained his usual composure and said, „You'd rather thank me. That was pretty...“, he was looking for words, „...cheeky.“</p><p>His wording almost made Molly laugh again but she pulled herself together and confined herself to a broad grin.</p><p>„I’m going to thank you with a delicious meal, provided that you bring the bags over here."</p><p>Reluctantly, almost grumpily, he carried the shopping bags into the kitchen and put them onto the dining table. Molly took a clean bowl, a spoon, and a whisk, and then the ingredients for the dessert from one of the bags.</p><p>"How did it go with Lestrade?", she asked him when she opened the first cup of curd, emptying it into the bowl.</p><p>"He had a day off but since his colleagues from Forensics know me as his right hand, they immediately took a look at the notes."</p><p>"So?", Molly asked as she was mixing the first ingredients.</p><p>"As expected, we are not dealing with a criminal mastermind. The paper is cheap, the pen just one of thousands and can be found in any stationery store. There were more fingerprints than we care for. All we need is another handwriting to compare it with and we'll know who's behind it."</p><p>The fact that the perpetrator obviously did not represent a major threat calmed Molly to a certain degree, yet the thought, that someone who was working with her every day, had tried to scare her made her feel uneasy.</p><p>"I hope I can go back to work tomorrow to look for some clues", she replied and tasted the curd by dipping a finger into the cream and sticking it into her mouth. To her amazement, Sherlock's look changed as he was watching her. Then he blinked several times and turned his gaze to the mail lying on the table.</p><p>Since when did Sherlock react to gestures that could probably be described as lewd?</p><p>With the letters in his hand, he went over to the living room and sat down in his armchair. Molly put the curd into the fridge and then started preparing the first and the main course.</p><p>~~~</p><p>Sherlock didn’t feel like having dinner with Mrs. Hudson since he didn’t care for any kind of social event whatsoever. He liked the landlady and he had already proved it to her several times – at least in his opinion. They had their very own way of dealing with each other but he wanted to avoid a conflict with Molly because she was staying with him for some days only. He’d struggle through and hadn’t planned anything better anyway.</p><p>It didn’t go unnoticed that Molly had prettied herself up a little. Her wardrobe had little to offer but after all, she had replaced the obligatory jumper with a neutral t-shirt, put on some make-up, and pinned her hair up elegantly. Sherlock wasn’t sure, though, if he preferred the ponytail that bounced with every step she took and swayed every time she turned her head.</p><p>The food tasted delicious. For a starter, she had prepared a salad, which was garnished with an above-average amount of tomatoes. The main course was a classic Shepherds Pie that almost tasted like the one Mummy usually made when he was visiting her. A trifle with fresh fruits, biscuits, and the prepared curd served as a dessert.</p><p>
  <em>The curd. The finger. The tasting.</em>
</p><p>Sherlock shook his head to get rid of those disturbing pictures.</p><p>He largely avoided conversation and got an idea how husbands must feel like when they were condemned to invite their grand cousin to dinner at regular intervals. Once again, he was happy to live the life of an eternal bachelor, free to do whatever he liked.</p><p>“So, Molly, are you looking forward to leaving this much too dusty apartment again? Surely you miss your fiancé!”, Mrs. Hudson said and sipped at her wine.</p><p>“Not really”, Sherlock whispered quietly to himself, receiving a reprimanding kick in the shin hidden by the table.</p><p>“Ouch!”, Molly immediately cried since it was her aching foot that she unfortunately had sent into battle.</p><p>„I just hit the table leg with my… Anyway…“, she tried to explain herself stammering and her cheeks turned pink. ”We still don’t know who‘d manipulated the corpse and why. Hence, I’m going to stay a little longer. But yes, I am especially looking forward to sleeping in my own bed again”, she replied, and Sherlock failed to suppress a knowing grin.</p><p>"Luckily, you did without rouge", he murmured as the pink of her cheeks turned into a conspicuous red tone. He strongly doubted the truth of her last statement. Molly gave him an angry look and apparently hoped that it would do to silence him.</p><p>"Back in my days, it would have been inconceivable for an engaged woman to spend the night with an unmarried man", Mrs. Hudson explained without sounding reproachful.</p><p>"Well nowadays, it's a common way to encourage the world’s men to reflect on their misdeeds or to indulge in erotic adventures that the husband-to-be will never live up to during marriage", Sherlock said as if he was talking about a chemical analysis.</p><p>Molly’s eyes widened in shock and her jaw dropped.</p><p>"Not that one of those two scenarios would be true in this case", Sherlock quickly added. "This is entirely about Molly's safety."</p><p>He left the conversation to the ladies again to not bring himself further into disrepute but couldn’t help admitting that Molly’s reaction had amused him a little. If he had to attend a dinner like this one, he wanted to have some fun in his own way.</p><p>The rest of the evening went on without further incidents and Mrs. Hudson - sticking to the etiquette - left for her apartment quite early since the working population was forced to get up early in the morning.</p><p>“How is your foot?”, Sherlock asked a little snippy when they were alone again. Molly had allowed herself another glass of wine and darted a reproachful look at him, her eyes narrowed.</p><p>“It worsened a bit since I had to use it more often tonight than expected”, she replied.</p><p>Sherlock responded in amusement, “Maybe you overdid it a little today? Good that someone took the shopping out of your hands at least.“</p><p>His reminder made her anger fade away and Molly couldn't hide a smile. She had been amused by him today as he had by her. If he weren‘t Sherlock, one could have assumed that the two of them were flirting with each other. Molly was glad that yesterday's kiss obviously did not interfere with their temporary coexistence. That it hasn‘t become something weird. On the contrary, both seemed to be in quite a good mood today. The many used dishes that were still standing around everywhere wouldn’t change it either.</p><p>Molly took another sip of her wine and smiled inwardly.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Convicted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More plot than feels this time but maybe it's just the calm before the storm...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was quite a challenge to look for handwritten notes inconspicuously when there were so many tasks waiting to get done. Since Molly had been absent for a day, the tissue samples to be examined piled up so that she needed an excuse every time she tried to have a look at some files. She quickly realized that this strategy would lead to nowhere.</p><p>Most reports and results were entered into the local software and then printed out. It took her too long to find appropriate scribbles and, moreover, she was too slow to move away from the document cabinets due to her handicap. Her frustration grew until she eventually resigned.</p><p>There had to be another way! She decided to think about an alternative with Sherlock in the evening. This was nothing but futile.</p><p>She tried as hard as she could to focus on her work and was analyzing nevi with her students, that had been sent in from surgery. Each of them prepared the tissue samples independently for microscopy. Tasks like this, which hardly required teamwork, were exactly Sebastian’s cup of tea. When Molly was supervising their actions, Sebastian’s approach was by far the fastest and most orderly of all.</p><p>“Excellent work”, she whispered so low that only he was able to hear it. His ears turned red instantly.</p><p>She was a little disappointed by Elisabeth. The cuts were not thin enough so that she had difficulty making a diagnosis. Molly helped her out a little. It wasn't that she had an aversion to her but Elisabeth was one of those people who had better chances in making a career and who were forgiven for minor mistakes just because of their appearance, even though their expertise actually left a lot to be desired. Molly didn’t begrudge Elisabeth‘s professional success, she just knew what it felt like to assert herself as a rather mousy colleague against people of this kind.</p><p>According to her expectations, James worked precisely and accurately. However, she stopped herself from praising him to not fuel his ego. When they were all done, she said, “Now, let’s compare our results” and the group gathered around one of the lab tables.</p><p>“Did you come up with another idea about Mrs. Smith?”, Elisabeth asked curiously and off-topic.</p><p>“I have a theory”, Molly answered briefly, following Sherlock’s example. "So, what have you-", she began but stopped for she had noticed something. She cleared her throat and tried to continue, trying to sound as normal as possible. When all of them had displayed their results, she let James and the others put down the report and excused for the toilet. Once there, she pulled out her phone and sent a message to Sherlock:</p><p>DISCOVERED SOMETHING. CAN YOU COME AROUND WITH SOMEONE FROM FORENSICS AFTER END OF SHIFT? MH</p><p>She took a deep breath because her heart was beating way too nervously. She jumped by the unexpectedly beeping of her phone.</p><p>I’LL BE THERE AT 5:15 PM WITH LESTRADE AND ANDERSON. SH</p><p>Well, that was quick. And good. Very good, actually. Her funny little brain just started to work out a plan…</p><p>~~~</p><p>Molly’s excitement grew as her working day tended to end. As always, the lab tables were cleaned, the used gloves, as well as the slides and other garbage, were thrown away. She had asked the students to help her carrying some new materials into the lab for the next shift since she wasn’t able to walk properly. Each of them went to the storeroom and took one of the boxes with new disposable gloves, cleaning cloths, and several instruments for microscopy. Together, they stocked up the cupboards and Molly tried to pay close attention to who took care of which box. Then she said goodbye to the junior doctors and waited for Sherlock to arrive. He was on time and had Anderson and Lestrade in tow.</p><p>“Hello, Molly. What’s going on here?”, Lestrade asked. Sherlock had visited him several times in the last few days and asked for his cooperation without giving him a reason for it. She explained briefly what had happened.</p><p>“Wow, it all adds up, doesn’t it?”, he replied but did not seem to be impressed. Molly had primarily been interested in finding out who played her such pranks. She suddenly realized that one of her pathologists-to-be had seriously come into conflict with the law which might cost him his job. The fact that she was responsible for it by consulting Sherlock and he for himself the police caused feelings of guilt in her.</p><p>“What have you discovered?”, Sherlock asked while he was looking around. Molly pointed to the boxes.</p><p>“I-I suspect one of my students”, she stumbled and tried to recollect her thoughts.</p><p>"We‘ve just emptied those boxes together. There should be lots of fingerprints on them."</p><p>Sherlock looked a little irritated for a moment as she obviously had not stuck to the agreement but did not seem to be angry. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.</p><p>He noticed that she was nervously fumbling with her fingers again but didn’t call her on it.</p><p>"And what has given you that idea?", Lestrade asked.</p><p>“The handwriting. Obviously“, Sherlock chimed in, burying his hands in his coat pockets.</p><p>”Students write down any information they haven‘t known yet. Apparently, Molly had been in contact with them today and the similarity of their notes to the messages from her locker had attracted her attention. Then she thought about how she could easily get the suspect’s fingerprints and had the young pathologists carry these boxes. A slightly different approach than discussed but certainly much more efficient.“ He gave her a short look of approval.</p><p>"Alright“, Lestrade said and didn’t bother to ask Molly for confirmation. Sherlock was right anyway and this case wasn't a big deal.</p><p>"Anderson, get to work", the inspector ordered. Anderson headed for the boxes and prepared his equipment. His beard got more shaggy and unkempt every time she saw him and did not match his hairstyle, which had been so popular in boy groups back in the 90s. At least, he was operating more orderly than his appearance suggested, and it didn’t take long until he had perpetuated the evidence.</p><p>“Well then, off to the police station”, Lestrade said and drove all three to Scotland Yard in his patrol car. The comparison of the fingerprints provided a clear result. Molly didn’t know if she felt relieved or not. Although she was now certain who’d initiated that wicked game, she didn't really know the consequences which were about to follow. It wasn‘t over yet.</p><p>“What’s the matter, Molly?” Sherlock asked in the cab on their way back to Baker Street and interrupted her thoughts.</p><p>“Well, by involving you and the police, I may have destroyed a successful career and put someone behind bars who just wanted to make a bad joke. The price for this prank seems disproportionately high to me”, she said and looked shyly into Sherlock’s now grey eyes.</p><p>“A corpse is manipulated by removing the cause of death and then you get threatening messages from the perpetrator. Do you really feel responsible for the consequences he now has to face?” Sherlock looked at her in disbelief. “Molly, each criminal out there can give you a plausible reason for what he did. Pity is inappropriate here. Every single person has to bear the consequences of his or her actions. Don’t take on that burden. You did the right thing”, he assured her.</p><p>“But what’s going to happen now?”</p><p>“It depends. You or your employer could officially report him to the police which will then start to investigate. By now, the police has only done us a favour.“<br/>
<br/>
Molly didn’t reply instantly. Sherlock could literally see her discomfort and the thoughts spinning around in her head.</p><p>„I can offer you an alternative”, he added, attracting her attention again. Tense, she listened to his plan, while the roads were rushing past them. When they arrived at Baker Street, Sherlock was satisfied that her eyes reflected hope rather than worry and that her lips had turned into a smile.</p><p>Exhausted, Molly sunk onto the sofa, resting her leg on the cushions. The extra strain during the day was obviously giving her a hard time. Her face was contorted with pain, while she was rubbing her ankle. Sherlock disappeared in the bathroom and then quickly returned to the living room with a tube in his hand.</p><p>“Let me have a look at it”, he said and settled down next to her. Molly didn’t resist when he placed her leg on his lap and loosened the bandage. He inspected the foot closely and moved it cautiously. His hands were wonderfully warm and surprisingly gentle. By looking down on the subject of interest, the dark curls fell into his forehead. Curls that Molly would have loved to touch, loved to let slide through her fingertips.</p><p>His eyes were focused on her injury, his brows puckered.</p><p>
  <em>Those cheekbones!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Which of all world's men had such cheekbones?</em>
</p><p>“Just sprained ligaments, I’d say. Should be fine soon with a little patience”, he diagnosed.</p><p>“What would you recommend, Doctor? Without your advice, I’d be stranded”, Molly mocked since she was a doctor herself and had made the diagnosis long before him. He shot a significant look at her, which, together with his messy hair, caused goosebumps all over her skin.</p><p>He suppressed another unqualified comment, opened the tube, and rubbed some of the ointment in his hands to warm it up before spreading it onto her ankle. His touch was more pleasant than Molly let show. She hadn’t had any idea how responsive her feet were to a touch like this and enjoyed the little massage more than she was willing to admit.</p><p>Sherlock was careful so as not to hurt her. When he was done, he bandaged her ankle again.</p><p>"Too tight?", he asked and pushed a finger under the bandage, checking. Molly shook her head and thanked him. She recollected her digressive thoughts when Sherlock got up to wash his hands.</p><p>Giving Molly some time to rest, Sherlock took care of dinner this time. He had an easy job since there were still leftovers from yesterday's dinner but nevertheless, it was a bit strange to watch him doing such everyday tasks.</p><p>They enjoyed their meal right on the couch, watching TV on the side. Sherlock couldn’t help deducing and commenting on pretty much every scene but apart from that, Molly was amazed at how uncomplicated and easy living with him had been so far.</p><p>And then she realized that – given that tomorrow will go according to their plan – everything would be over. That she had to return to her apartment again. To Tom. She felt a stab somewhere in her belly but tried as best she could to ignore it.</p><p>When there was only so little time left here at Baker Street, she would make the most out of it.</p><p>~~~</p><p>“Before we get to work, I want you to go to our meeting room first”, Molly said, desperately trying to hide her nervousness. The students followed her and looked at each other apprehensively. Dr. Richards, the senior physician of pathology, was already waiting. He was a dumpy man with spare hair and dark-rimmed glasses, but he was a fair boss. Molly had let him in the incidents according to the agreements with Sherlock and he was shocked at what had been going on in his ward.</p><p>"Don't look at me like rabbits caught in the headlights," he greeted the young doctors with a warm smile. „We just want to consider the results of your work so far." The tension gradually faded as the group took seats.</p><p>"It has been brought to my attention that all of you are going to be capable doctors. You, Sebastian, are a very diligent and regarded colleague. Your qualities come into effect especially when you can devote yourself to a task undisturbed. Feel free to be a little more confident - your expertise allows you to."<br/>
<br/>
Sebastian lowered his gaze and nodded. Molly noticed his shy smile and his red ears.</p><p>
  <em>A male Dr. Hooper.</em>
</p><p>Dr. Richards now turned to Elisabeth:</p><p>"Your expertise and your grades, Elisabeth, are quite impressive, too. You have any right to be proud of yourself. You too will be a good pathologist, however, you should take your time with the preparations. You will get it back since you can analyze the tissue samples more easily."</p><p>She responded with a soft smile. "I‘ll take your advice to heart, Mr. Richardson".</p><p>James was sitting in his chair nonchalantly, one leg readily crossed over the other.</p><p>"James, I don't need to say much about your professional skills. You know you're good and you like to let it show. I recommend holding back a little every now and again, then you’ll have excellent chances on the job market“.</p><p>"Unless you put them on the line by letting yourself be guided by your oversized ego," a voice chimed in from behind. Sherlock had sneaked up unnoticed, his hands crossed behind his back and the collar of his coat turned up. A knowing smile played around James's mouth.</p><p>"Ah, that's why we're here. I thought so. But you have to admit, Dr. Hooper: you wouldn't have cracked that nut without your friend's help, would you?" The student seemed to be fully aware that there was no point in denying. He’d even expected to get caught, apparently.</p><p>"You don’t seem to be aware of what you have done here. This is far more than a stupid, arrogant prank. You are guilty of several offences and you will stand trial for this. Consider your career finished here at Barts. Once in your criminal record, it’s going to be very difficult to find a new employer. Your arrogance ruined you. I highly recommend attending a lawyer because you are arrested", Sherlock said plainly. As on command, Lestrade entered the room and handcuffed the young pathologist, who had lost all face color by the words of the detective.</p><p>"B-but I...", he began stammering.</p><p>"Don't fuss, mate. Save your words for the court", Lestrade cut him short and led him to the door. Sherlock darted a look at Molly, smiling. She rolled her eyes and said,</p><p>"Always a penchant for the melodramatic, huh?"</p><p>"What's going on here? What did he do?", Elizabeth asked. Molly briefly told the two students what had happened. "Disgusting, that bighead!“, Elisabeth said. "And what now?"</p><p>"He can't stay with us", Dr. Richards stated. "However, we will desist from reporting. Mr. Holmes here just wanted to scare him a little. He and the police are playing their own prank on him, so to speak, before he will be released again."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Connected</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ladies and Gentlemen:<br/>Enjoy! ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Molly felt relieved when she returned to Baker Street after her shift had ended. James' actions and his subsequent dismissal went around quickly, and Molly was overwhelmed with questions. She felt exhausted and her head was throbbing. On the one hand, she was glad that all the fuss has gone up in smoke, on the other hand, however, it also implied her move-out.</p><p>Sherlock had been right with his dropped remark during dinner with Mrs. Hudson: Molly didn't miss Tom and she felt guilty about it. In fact, she liked the temporary stay at Baker Street. It was fun to work on a case together with Sherlock and she enjoyed spending time with him. Those few messages she had sent to Tom had only been of a perforce and superficial nature. Molly was ashamed of her thoughts but not of her feelings. Nevertheless, she did not know what to do next.</p><p>She popped an aspirin and sat down in John's old armchair.</p><p>"The dust will settle," Sherlock said without looking at her. He was already working on a new case, judging by the pictures and notes he held in his hand to pin onto the wall of his living room. Molly was a little surprised by Sherlock's words since he had hardly taken note of her before. But she was too tired up to ask.</p><p>"Well, I guess there's no reason for me to stay here any longer and worry about my safety," she said, anxious not to sound as sad as she felt. Sherlock paused for a moment, then turned around and watched her closely.</p><p>"No, there isn't," he plainly confirmed before he turned back to the wall again. Molly had hoped... Well, she didn't really know what she had hoped for. That someone was seriously trying to kill her so that she could stay under Sherlock's protection just a bit longer?</p><p>"Well, I'm going to pack my bag for tomorrow then," she said but Sherlock didn't respond to her at all. Molly got up lethargically, roaming the living room and kitchen to collect her belongings. With loaded arms, she went upstairs and threw everything on John's former bed.</p><p>Sighing, she sent Tom a message to inform him of her return back home and then reached for her bag. She emptied it onto the bed as well just to put everything back in well-sorted and in order. When she prepared some clothes for tomorrow, Sherlock knocked at her door and entered. He handed her the book that she had obviously overlooked and left on the coffee table.</p><p>"You don't want to forget this, do you?“, Sherlock asked.</p><p>He looked at Molly attentively and then settled down on the bed right next to her.</p><p>"Thank you," she said and put it on the nightstand.</p><p>"Is everything all right?", he asked surprisingly softly with his forearms on his knees and his fingers interlaced. Fingers, that had touched her ankle so gently just a few days ago.</p><p>"Sure. Why do you ask?", Molly replied when she didn't come up with something better to say. It was too hard for her to concentrate when he was so close, making her palms clammy.</p><p>"Because you look pretty sad considering that your case is solved and that you can return to your beloved fiancé again." His honesty - or often tactlessness - always had something disarming about it. Molly opened her mouth only to close it again without having said anything. She shirked from his look and bit her lower lip since she didn't want to lie to him. It was senseless to lie to someone like Sherlock Holmes anyway.</p><p>"Remember what I wished you when we were standing in the stairwell of that cap-chewing train fanatic?", he asked in the same warm tone of voice as he had done back then. The memory of it made her tear up instantly. How could she ever forget this moment? His look? The most touching words he had ever uttered?</p><p>She swallowed hard before she nodded and replied, "<em>I hope you'll be very happy, Molly Hooper.</em>" She pushed herself to smile but it wasn't easy.</p><p>"Exactly. I am sorry to see that my wish hasn't come true yet“, he said. „I wonder if I could do something about it for a change..."</p><p>Molly was confused by his last words. She could think of many things he could do to cheer her up but she doubted very much that he meant it that way. Insecurely, she met his eyes. His piercing look scanned her as thoroughly as they had done a few minutes ago in the living room but there was something gentle, almost loving in it.</p><p>Sherlock suddenly seemed to be as irritated and insecure as she had been on so many occasions – especially when he was around, always making her nervous. He cleared his throat, interrupted eye contact, hesitated. The sudden tension between the two of them was almost graspable. Molly had never seen him like this. He ran his hands through his hair before he came even closer and pressed his lips onto hers.</p><p>Molly didn't know what was happening. She couldn't believe what he was doing but she'd be damned if she resisted! He seemed as surprised as he was nervous, and held his breath. Only when Molly returned his kiss did he relax and put one hand on her cheek, drawing her closer to him.</p><p>This time it was a real kiss - and she soaked it all in, relishing the moment. He smelled as wonderful as the sheets she had snuggled so deeply into. His lips were softer than she remembered and were kissing more tenderly than she expected.</p><p>Molly finally allowed herself to bury her hands in his curls. That initially shy kiss quickly found its own rhythm. She felt her pulse quicken as she parted her lips and invited Sherlock to do the same. She sucked at his lower lip before she searched with her tongue for his and was pleased to notice that Sherlock was breathing heavier when their tips met.</p><p>As guided by a higher power, they sank onto the mattress without interrupting their encounter. Sherlock wrapped an arm around her shoulder and put a knee between her legs. With her hands on his neck, she pulled him closer, holding him tight as if she was silently begging him never to stop.</p><p>THIS definitely made her happier, put her into a frenzy and filled her heart with what she had dreamed, and imagined for so long.</p><p>She felt the rest of her body responding to the kiss as well. Her heart was beating excitedly in her chest and she felt a sweet tingling rushing over her skin from head to toe.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Sherlock, if you keep doing this, I won't be able to stop myself!</em>
</p><p>How she would have loved to slip her hands under his shirt, to explore him, to feel the warmth of his skin on hers. The thought of it made her sigh with pure pleasure and caused Sherlock to interrupt the kiss.</p><p>No! No, no, no!</p><p>Molly could've slapped herself for her reaction. He had been kissing her to cheer her up a bit and her body immediately went crazy! It was still Sherlock Holmes who was lying on top of her. Eternal bachelor, abstinent for years. She would never be the one to turn him around!</p><p>Her entire head reddened - she could literally feel the hot wave of embarrassment rising up to her cheeks. Dear God, the effect he had on her body was enormous and probably beyond anything healthy.</p><p>"I'm sorry, I -", she stuttered.</p><p>"No need to apologize, Molly. Let go and don't you dare to make me think."</p><p>When he kissed her again, Molly realized that he was as breathless as she was. She'd never thought that Sherlock would find her attractive in any way at all - especially not sexually.</p><p>He pressed his knee against her most sensitive spot, making her gasp for air and her thoughts vanish. Her reason fell silent, giving way to the voice of passion that came to the fore.</p><p>
  <em>...Let go, Molly...</em>
</p><p>And she did. She let herself drift with the wave they had both jumped on and sighed again as his hand touched the skin under her shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra - she rarely did - and dug her fingertips into his back when his hand enclosed her breast und pulled cautiously at her hard nipple. She couldn't help but moan lustfully.</p><p>Sherlock then sat up and pulled her with him.</p><p>Within seconds, her top landed on the floor, followed by his shirt. He pressed her back onto the sheets and his other leg between her thighs as well. His lips wandered over her neck, and further down to where his hand had just been. They explored her breasts in all possible ways and Molly started to whimper. He continued his journey southwards torturously slow, his touches still perceptible on her skin, making her longing for more. Much more.</p><p>She wanted to touch him, to taste him, to pull at his hair but she was still too shy and surprised to give it a try. And too afraid to make him stop by doing something wrong...</p><p>Molly's excitement increased when he opened her jeans and freed her from the superfluous fabric. He looked down at her body, which was now almost completely naked and exposed to his gaze. Their eyes met as he bent down again to continue his kiss.</p><p>"Oh God, Sherlock", it escaped her throat when she felt his hard length through her panties. She could not resist rubbing herself against him and closed her eyes. He returned her gentle urging, pushing against her in slow, controlled movements. His fingers interlacing with hers, he led her arms up to her head and held her tight, keeping her in position with all his weight on her body. The thought that she was at his mercy to a certain degree was incredibly stimulating. Molly's desire grew with every thrust of him and she couldn't deny the increasingly slippery feeling in her knickers.</p><p>Sherlock's warm breath brushed over her throat and he swallowed hard as she started moaning softly - slowly indulging in her pleasure.</p><p>"What are you doing to me, Molly Hooper...", he whispered and was even trembling a little. Apparently, he was having a hard time controlling himself. When he pulled away from her, Molly said, "No, don't". She didn't want him to stop. The interruption of their contact, their closeness was tormenting her.</p><p>"No worries," he breathed on her ear as he laid down beside her to take off her underwear. Then he put his hand right onto her folds where he started teasing and massaging her.</p><p>"So ready for me...", he said with faltering breath when he noticed her wetness. Molly corrected the position of his hand to her most sensitive spot, showing him how to please her. Her whole body tensed and her eyes fluttered shut as he was stimulating her just the way she wanted. When he pushed a finger inside, she gasped for breath and hold tightly onto his arm.</p><p>She didn't want nor could she wait any longer. Everything inside her longed for him, desired him. She pressed her legs together to prevent him from making her climax already and reached out for the belt of his trousers. She found it quickly and Sherlock helped her open it. He slipped out of both his trousers and his underpants at the same time. Molly wanted to touch him, to return what he had just given her but he was already on top of her again.</p><p>He was in need too, only aiming for one thing to happen. And Molly opened her legs in anticipation, inviting him to feel her, to take her, to make her moan even louder. Looking at her with the last spark of decency in his eyes, he asked, "Are you sure?"</p><p><em>...Yes! Yes yes yes yes!... </em>her whole body screamed and Molly nodded. Nothing in the world would have made her stop now.</p><p>Their lips met again, this time full of demand and lust, and Sherlock slipped easily into her. Both of them caught their breaths, both of them held on to each other and let themselves be guided by their lust. Molly lifted her legs a little to give him full access and Sherlock greedily accepted her silent request. Again and again, he pushed into her, making Molly forget everything around her. His arms were wrapped around her shoulders, his upper body pressed against her chest as he was thrusting into her. His initially controlled movements became more and more passionate.</p><p>"Molly, can I... faster-"</p><p>"Oh God, yes, please!", she begged. Sherlock seemed to lose control by the words she had just uttered and took Molly with him.</p><p>They surrendered completely to each other, became merged into their lust, and let go of all inhibitions. Sweat dripped from his black curls as Sherlocked leaned on his arms to get a better angle. Using the gap between their bodies, Molly reached down between her legs to rub her swollen clit. Very close to climax, Sherlock pushed deep into her once again, then he hastily withdrew from her and came with a loud sigh.</p><p>His last passionate thrusts had also driven Molly over the edge and the wave of orgasm took over her whole body. It felt like she was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. Every single muscle was twitching, her legs were trembling uncontrollably, making her dig her fingers into the sheets, sighing with release.</p><p>When she was back in her senses again, she was breathing at least as exhausted as Sherlock. She opened her eyes that had kept closed so tightly before and looked into his astonished and stunned face. Molly was still shaking by the aftershocks.</p><p>"Oh... my... God...", she said. „That was..."</p><p>"...unexpected", Sherlock finished her sentence, smirking. Molly buried her face in her hands in embarrassment, then looked at him through her fingers and suppressed an ashamed giggle. Sherlock couldn't help but laugh too but he quickly got serious again.</p><p>"I'm sorry for...", he began, pointing to the wet and sticky spot on her belly.</p><p>"It's okay, Sherlock. It's... you", Molly replied, and something in Sherlock's expression changed. He looked at her just a second too long, then averted his gaze and cleaned her with one of the tissues that were lying on the bedside table.</p><p>Then, he gave her the most tender kiss he was probably capable of and let himself sink onto the sheet, wrapping an arm around her waist. He looked so peaceful when he closed his eyes - it was almost as if the universe had made sure that something got back on track. He seemed at ease, relaxed, and so... normal.</p><p>Just like Molly, Sherlock was simply himself at that moment and showed her a side of him that she had never seen before. A very human and vulnerable side.</p><p>She cuddled up to him, clinging to the arm that held her, and smiled blissfully. It felt right to lay here with him in this bed. And while she was enjoying the moment of just lying next to him, she noticed his breathing even until he has fallen asleep.</p><p>Molly closed her eyes and listened to him for a while. She was totally at peace when she felt the weight and warmth of his arm around her body - an arm she had never been lucky to feel like this before.</p><p>***</p><p>Molly woke up as the first rays of sunshine were falling into her face. Her gaze went to Sherlock who was still sleeping next to her, reminding her of what had happened the night before. A smile flashed over her face. Had this been real?</p><p>He was only covered up to his hips and now in daylight, she could clearly see the scars on his upper body. Her heart sank when she imagined who or what had done this to him. She would have liked to touch them or to breathe a kiss on those old injuries but she was afraid of being too importunate - her shyness always being her eternal companion...</p><p>"John could embellish his blog posts with these, don't you think?"</p><p>Sherlock's deep and somewhat rough voice from sleep suddenly reached her ear. She looked into his sleepy face and smiled. She probably looked terribly tousled and wrinkled, whereas Sherlock looked so damn sexy with his messy curls. That was unfair!</p><p>Resisting the urge to snuggle up to him and thus preventing to scare him off by doing so, she preferred to kick off the duvet and swing her legs out of bed. She quickly slipped into her panties and boldly reached for Sherlock's shirt to cover herself. Then she opened the door and walked down the stairs to make her way to the bathroom but found herself bumping right into Tom.</p><p>She went pale by the sight of him.</p><p>
  <em>Shit. Shit! Shit! Bloody damn shit!</em>
</p><p>She'd planned to move out today but had totally forgotten about it. What time was it, anyway? Tom had obviously wanted to surprise her; pleased that he could finally give her a hug again. Her guilty consciousness struck her instantly.</p><p>"Oh, Tom... ", was the only thing that came out of her mouth. She saw his smile disappear and his face darken instantly. His gaze was scanning her from head to toe and never in her life had Molly felt so exposed.</p><p>"What's going on here?", he asked, pointing to her shirt.</p><p>"It's pretty obvious, isn't it?", Sherlock answered when he appeared at the staircase with nothing on but his underpants.</p><p>"Sherlock!", Molly cried in shock.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"In situations like this, you normally say something like 'it's not what it looks like'", she explained with a low voice.</p><p>"But it is exactly what it looks like", he objected. A rather tense silence ensued, that was only hard to bear. Tom's initial disappointment reflecting on his face gradually gave way to pure anger. As he set about rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, Sherlock said with rolling eyes, "Don't be so stupid."</p><p>"You fucked my fiancée!“, Tom yelled – loud enough for Mrs. Hudson to hear.</p><p>"No, I didn't. At least, I don't think that it was hard enough to call it like that."</p><p>With a leap, Tom came closer and gave the arrogant detective a solid punch in the face. At least, that had been his intention but Sherlock parried the attack with a short movement and hit him on the nose instead. Blood was running out of his nostrils just a second later. He landed on the floor and buried his face in his hands, whimpering.</p><p>"Oh God, Tom!", Molly cried and quickly fetched a pack of tissues from the living room. He knocked them out of her hand and shot a hateful look at her.</p><p>"Not from a bitch like you!"</p><p>Sherlock seized the man by the collar, tore him up, and threw him roughly against the wall. His face was only inches away from his counterpart.</p><p>"If you call Molly Hooper like that ever again, you're gonna wish to get away with a bloody nose only. Did I make myself clear?"</p><p>Tom nodded, fear written all over his face.</p><p>"Now get out of here!", Sherlock demanded, his eyes narrowed to slits.</p><p>Tom gave Molly one last condescending glace before he beat his retreat.</p><p>"Sherlock, what was that noise?", Mrs. Hudson called from downstairs. They quickly apologized for the inconvenience and assured the landlady that everything was just fine. Then they quickly entered the living room and closed the door.</p><p>
  <em>That didn't go well, did it?</em>
</p><p>„I'm not an expert, but I don't think that a woman, who just got caught cheating and whose engagement is probably over, should smile", Sherlock suddenly said into the silence.</p><p>Molly bit her lower lip and then shrugged. "Well, it also sorts out certain things that I don't have to worry about anymore..."</p><p>Sherlock was irritated at first, but then he simply nodded and headed for the bathroom.</p><p>"Sherlock?", Molly asked before he could disappear. He turned around, just looking at her.</p><p>"What would you call it?"</p><p>He kept silent for a moment, but then his lips turned into a smile as he answered, "Intense."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Unexpected</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Just like every morning, Sherlock was sitting in his armchair and flipped through the London Times while enjoying the rest of his tea. He gave Toby, who was constantly bunting against his leg and meowing for food, a slight kick to make him hide under the kitchen table. Molly entered fully dressed, placed her bag on the dining table, and let her keys loudly drop onto the tabletop. Even though Sherlock was a little annoyed by her pet, Molly was glad that he had allowed him to move in with her.</p><p>After the very unpleasant incident with Tom, Sherlock had helped her to bring her most important belongings over to Baker Street. Several boxes with clothes, things for her cat, files, and books were now decorating John’s old room.</p><p>Living together with the most famous detective of Great Britain remained as uncomplicated as it had been before. It was as if nothing had happened. As if both of them were ignoring the intimacy of the very night that could’ve changed their relationship forever. The only thing that had changed was that the natural distance between two only platonically linked human beings had disappeared. When they were sitting next to each other on the sofa or when they were standing in the kitchen to prepare a meal, they were a bit closer to each other than a few days ago. Only a very attentive observer could have drawn a conclusion about their connection.</p><p>Sherlock noticed the familiar noises from the kitchen when Molly was feeding her cat but his attention was drawn to the steps on the staircase. The door swung open and his faithful friend with a suntanned face and his wife in tow entered.</p><p>“As I see, both of you came back to London safely and healthy. How was your Honeymoon?”, Sherlock greeted them.</p><p>“It was wonderful!”, Mary answered with sparkling eyes. „I had to throw up constantly but otherwise I can’t complain.”</p><p>“It felt so good to have some days off“, John said relieved after all those pretty stressful preparations for the wedding. Only when Molly closed the zipper of her bag and grabbed her keys to leave for work did John and Mary notice her.</p><p>“Oh, how nice to see you, Molly!”, John said and gave her a hug followed by his wife. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Uhm, I... I live here”, Molly replied with blushed cheeks.</p><p>John triumphantly turned to Mary. “There you are! I told you that Sherlock is perfectly fine. He’s just replaced me and...” He stopped and turned back to Molly with a frown. “Wait a minute! What’s going on here? Is everything alright between you and Tom?”</p><p>Molly looked shyly down to the floor since she didn’t know what to say.</p><p>“Tom caught us right in the middle of a very hot coital act. Imagine how furious he was. And then I offered her your former room upstairs”, Sherlock chimed in. John couldn’t help but burst into laughter whereas Molly's eyes widened in shock.</p><p>“Okay, and what had really happened?”, John tried again. Sherlock flipped a page of his newspaper that he apparently kept reading.</p><p>“He caught us afterwards”, he answered totally objectively as he was talking about today’s weather forecast.</p><p>“Sherlock, come on...”, John began but got interrupted by a gentle blow from Mary’s elbow. She bit her lip and pointed over to Molly. Her entire head was as red as if she was suffering from a very painful sunburn. John looked at Sherlock, then at Molly, then back again. He was flabbergasted.</p><p>“You and... Molly... you two had...”</p><p>“Very nice conversation but I really have to get to Barts”, Molly said suddenly, grabbed her bag, and left hastily.</p><p>Mary immediately took the client’s chair and sat down on it buoyantly. She was grinning from ear to ear and hoped for more information.</p><p>“I think we’ve missed a lot, haven’t we, John?”</p><p>“Seems like it, yes”, he replied and settled down on his old armchair. His initial amusement had disappeared. He stared at his friend totally serious but Sherlock was still studying the London Times.</p><p>“So, you really...?”</p><p>“Yup”</p><p>“Is it for a case somehow?”</p><p>“No”</p><p>“Well, let's hope so. Are you together? Is she your...”</p><p>“I very much doubt it.”</p><p>“Why then?”, John continued the interrogation, his head leaning against his fingertips as he was watching the terribly chatty detective who hardly met his gaze.</p><p>Sherlock finally shot a glance at John but remained silent.</p><p>“Sherlock, you know what this woman feels for you. That she fell for you several years ago. She was even close to marrying someone that looked like you.”</p><p>“Well observed, John. I see, your skills are improving.”</p><p>"Sherlock, why? What were you thinking?" John's tone of voice became quite reproachful. The detective eventually lowered the newspaper and said, "I don't know. She was depressed that night and I wanted to… cheer her up."</p><p>John raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "And you thought sex would be the most effective way?"</p><p>"I didn't think at all. I just did.“</p><p>"You are incapable of not thinking, Sherlock."</p><p>John looked at his friend for a long time. The silence in the room was only interrupted by the passing cars on the street. Suddenly, John’s gaze changed. His face lit up and he gave his wife, who was already grinning from ear to ear, a knowing look. Sherlock was confused.</p><p>"Why are you both smiling? What’s so funny?"</p><p>"When are you going to tell her?", John asked instead of an answer.</p><p>"When am I going to tell her what?", Sherlock asked and seemed to have lost the thread completely. What the hell was going on here?</p><p>"That you have feelings for her."</p><p>"That I have what? Did you forget whom you are talking to? Who I am? Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective with the funny hat! Eternal bachelor, married to his job!"</p><p>"Maybe it's time for some deductions“, John said, hoping that it would bring Sherlock out of his shell. "Contrary to your basic convictions and values, you sleep with a rather mousy-looking woman who would never make any direct sexual approaches to you, and you let her move in to live with you. All of it does not happen for your own advantage but because of the need to give something back to said woman. To „Cheer her up“. Moreover, you trust her so much that you‘ve involved her in your plans to fake your death and that you seek refuge at her place if necessary. What does that tell us?"</p><p>Meanwhile, John had bent forward, supporting his forearms on his knees. He looked into a completely frozen and emotionless face. Sherlock didn't make any effort to respond to any of it.</p><p>"I think, you scared him off completely, John," Mary said, who had attended the whole scene in silence. „Let's have breakfast somewhere. He'll figure it out on his own."</p><p>She smiled warmly at Sherlock as she got up from the client‘s chair.</p><p>"Sherlock, if you want to talk…", John began.</p><p>"Nope", the detective cut him short immediately and averted his attention to the newspaper again. Resigned, John stood up and headed to the door with Mary. He darted a rather worried glance at his friend before he left him behind in his empty and far too silent apartment.</p><p>~~~</p><p>When Molly came home from work that day, she found Sherlock playing his violin. He didn’t take notice of her at all - even when she addressed him directly. She didn't bother to prepare him anything for dinner when she realized that he had not touched his lunch either. His mood didn't change the following day nor the day after. She was worried by the sight of him and finally pulled out her cell phone to write Mary a short message:</p><p>HEY. CAN I COME AROUND THIS AFTERNOON? MH</p><p>The positive response came within a few seconds.</p><p>She craved for the end of her working day and then set off for the Watsons. Mary looked a little upset when she opened the door. Apparently, she wasn't well.</p><p>"Hello, Mary. How's nausea?", Molly asked and entered.</p><p>"I swear, that kid is already driving me crazy!"</p><p>"Have you been to the doctor yet?", Molly asked. Of course, she hadn‘t missed Sherlock's deduction at the wedding and had asked him about it during her stay at Baker Street. Even though she had no ambitions to raise a child yet, she was genuinely happy for all those around her who had ventured this step.</p><p>"Yes, but you can't make out very much yet. But as far as we can tell, everything is fine," she said. Then she excused herself and disappeared quickly to the toilet. Molly looked after her sympathetically.</p><p>"Hello, Molly“, John's voice greeted her from God knows where.</p><p>„John?“, she asked and almost jumped when he was suddenly right next to her. He led her into the spacious living room with an amused smile. "What brings you here?", he asked, inviting her to have a seat. She settled down on the sofa, fumbling with her fingers. She felt uncomfortable that John knew about that night she had spent with Sherlock.</p><p>"I'm worried about Sherlock and no one knows him better than you do", Molly began. John had reckoned that she was paying them a visit for only one reason.</p><p>"Okay. I suppose he plays violin the whole day and doesn't talk to you?"</p><p>Molly looked at him dumbfounded.</p><p>"Yes, exactly. Did that happen before?"</p><p>"I've only seen him like this once. I thought, he will starve himself to death. He hasn't touched his food for ages. Believe it or not, it's a good sign for you", John said confidently. At that moment, Mary rejoined them.</p><p>"I-in what way?“, Molly dug deeper. John shot a look at Mary to help him out.</p><p>"Molly, maybe it shouldn't be us to tell you this…", she started, biting her lower lip.</p><p>"Tell me what?"</p><p>"Well… we may have frightened Sherlock a bit on our last visit," Mary explained and irritated Molly even more.</p><p>„Seems like it, yes", she confirmed frowning and waited for further explanations.</p><p>"We believe that Sherlock may be more interested in you than he is willing to admit", John continued cautiously. Molly stared at him in disbelief. Her heart skipped a beat by his words and a little glimmer of hope flared up inside her belly. Could that really be possible?</p><p>"But I don't want to raise false hopes, Molly", John added, who had observed her reaction attentively. "I have absolutely no idea what he is going to do about it. We may have helped him to realize his feelings but it is quite possible that he is trying to suppress them. You know how he is and how he thinks about emotions. What principles he follows. You‘ve managed to make him abandon some of those principles – at least temporarily."</p><p>His words put a slight damper on her raising euphoria but Molly tried to be realistic. Even though she was in love with Sherlock Holmes for years, she had never seriously hoped that he would give some sort of relationship with her a go. She was grateful for the moments he had given her that night but wasn‘t so naive to interpret this as the start of a Hollywood romance.</p><p>"What am I to do now?", she asked insecurely.</p><p>"What you always do, Molly“, Mary said, putting one hand on her shoulder. „Don't push him. Maybe he'll crawl out of his shell by himself."</p><p>
  <em>Yeah, wonderful! That strategy had worked just great over the last years! </em>
</p><p>Why couldn't she have what Mary and John had? Never before had she met a couple that matched so well and lived so harmoniously together as these two. They respected and accepted one another with all their quirks, that it almost hurt watching them. And they had found each other so easily and without any drama – just as ordained by fate.</p><p>Why did it seem to work for everyone else, but not for Molly? What was she doing wrong? Her life suddenly seemed incredibly exhausting. Again and again was she stuck in a dead-end - either because she could not love anyone as unconditionally as Sherlock or because the latter could not or didn't want to have a relationship with her.</p><p>"Maybe it's not a bad idea to start looking for an apartment. I mean, it was only a temporary solution anyway - especially with Toby."</p><p>It was pure reason speaking but her heart would have loved to stay a while longer. Never again would she be so close to Sherlock as in the past few days.</p><p>Mary gave John an unsteady look but then she nodded and said, "Our neighbours two houses down the street are looking for a new tenant since they are also expecting a baby and want to move to a bigger flat. We are on good terms with them. If you want, we can go over right now. I'm sure they'd love to show you their apartment. "</p><p>Molly was taken by surprise but there was nothing to be said against it. She wouldn't sign the contract right away, would she?</p><p>"Well, since I'm around anyway..."</p><p>"Then let's leave immediately before we disturb during dinner. But I want to call them beforehand at least", Mary said and got up. She grabbed her mobile and quickly announced their visit. Then she kissed John on the cheek and let him know subtly that she wanted to be alone with the pathologist.</p><p>Molly didn't miss Mary's curious look when they stepped out and onto the street.</p><p>"May I ask what it was like? I mean, I've assumed that Sherlock didn't even know how to do it."</p><p>Molly wasn't in the mood for a chitchat like this. In fact, she never peddled the qualities of her lovers around.</p><p>"Well, he knows. That much I can say," she replied tersely. She didn't want to offend Mary, and since it bothered her too, she added: "It may sound strange but somehow it wasn't a physical encounter. Not only. It felt as if there was a lot in between the lines as if we were connecting on a higher level. I've been with several men in my life but I've never experienced that. I can't describe it and possibly I'm the only one who feels this way..."</p><p>"Sherlock might not be able to name it either but I think it's the same with him. He didn't get involved with women for many years. Not even to satisfy natural impulses, if he has any at all. I still can't believe that he had let himself be carried away but I can assure you that there are reasons he did. Reasons which he obviously does not understand himself yet. This was not a knee-jerk reaction, I assure you", Mary stated.</p><p>Molly wasn't sure if Sherlock truly had feelings for her. How many times had he rejected her, exposed her, or given her a brush-off? He had hurt her so many times, he had put her nose out of joint on several occasions. Surely, there had also been warmer moments between them, perhaps even glances in which one could see more than just friendship. But love? She didn't really believe it, and even if she did, what does that do for her? Sherlock simply wasn't a man for a romance.</p><p>Yes, he had thrown some of his principles to the wind and had slept with her but he would not let happen such a mistake a second time.</p><p>"Look, here it is," Mary said. They were standing in front of a small building with four apartments and a very neatly trimmed front garden. The young neighbour had already opened the door and greeted them friendly. Unlike Mary, her pregnancy was clearly visible. She introduced herself as Mrs. Brown and invited both of them in.</p><p>The premises were modern and straight, the ground plan quite acceptable. Each room had large windows and the floor did not show any major defects at first sight. Although Molly liked the object itself, everything in her resisted moving out. She realized that she was about to close another chapter of her life. That she had failed again and was basically left with nothing. The only constant was her job at the hospital and Toby but apart from that, she had to start from scratch. Suddenly, she felt so terribly empty and at the same time so overwhelmed and determined by her circumstances.</p><p>"The best thing about the flat is the bathroom," Mrs. Brown said and led her across the hallway into a bathroom big enough to accommodate a comfortable tub, a shower, and a washing machine. The room was as modern as the rest of the apartment and even had a window.</p><p>"It's really nice here," Molly said. „May I ask how much the rent is?"</p><p>She'd expected a higher price due to the good condition, but to her surprise, the rent was just within her budget. Since the object basically met Molly's taste, they exchanged their phone numbers and she promised to get in touch with Mrs. Brown within the next days. She was grateful that the tenant did not ask why she planned to move.</p><p>When they left the house again, Mary invited Molly over to dinner but she was not very hungry. She said goodbye and allowed herself a long walk through the city. The weather was wonderful. There was not a single cloud in the sky and the temperatures were relatively mild.</p><p>She dwelt on her thoughts as she went through a park and listened to the noises of playing children. Silently, she weighed up the pros and cons of the apartment she had just visited and slowly made friends with the idea of retreating once more. She sighed heavily as she looked into the distance.</p><p>Then she hopped on the next bus back to Baker Street.</p><p>***</p><p>"You are late," Sherlock said when Molly arrived at Baker Street. She hadn't expected him to speak to her and just wanted to get a glass of water from the kitchen.</p><p>"Um…yes", she confirmed plainly.</p><p>„Where have you been?" he asked, staring at the monitor of his laptop. He had not spoken to her for days and even now he didn’t deign to look at her. She would have loved to tell him that it was none of his business how she'd spent her free time but Molly was still Molly.</p><p>Since she could hardly tell him that she had visited John and Mary because she was so worried about him, she decided to stick to the half-truth.</p><p>"I was viewing an apartment."</p><p>Sherlock abruptly raised his head by those words and looked at her in disbelief. The world seemed to have stopped turning for a moment.</p><p>"Why?" he asked.</p><p>"Why not?", she fired back.</p><p>"We get along fine. There are benefits for both of us“, he explained as matter-of-factly as ever.</p><p>"Really? I feel like you've been a little uncomfortable lately", she contradicted and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She didn’t know what to expect from this conversation and symbolically protected herself from further injuries.</p><p>"Uncomfortable is probably the wrong term but I want you to stay nevertheless," he said without showing any sort of emotion and turned back to the screen. For him, the matter seemed to be settled.</p><p>"Why should I? Give me a reason."</p><p>"You're not alone when you get home from work and you save rent."</p><p>"Ok, let me be more specific: Give me a <em>good</em> reason."</p><p>Even Molly didn't know what she wanted to hear from him but his serenity was driving her crazy. If she was going to live with someone for a longer period of time, then please not only because of financial advantages.</p><p>"Besides, I'm not alone. I still have Toby", she added. Her words seemed to affect him, judging by the expression on his face. He was clearly shocked that his company was on the same level as her cat‘s.</p><p>
  <em>Great, this will bring him out of his shell, won’t it?</em>
</p><p>For a brief moment, she felt the urge to apologize for her words, as she hadn‘t intended to give him a wipe. But how many times had she put his needs before her own? How many times had she held back? Sherlock interrupted eye contact and cleared his throat. Apparently, there was something going on inside him that he didn't want to say.</p><p>"So?", Molly asked again, putting a hand on her hip. And then the mood was suddenly changing. Sherlock swallowed heavily and gave her an almost tormented look. He stroked his hands over his face but remained silent. When she was about to leave the room, he finally said,</p><p>"Molly… I… Don't force me to…"</p><p>
  <em>Don't force me to give you a good reason because then I'd have to reveal what's the matter with me? Subtext. So much subtext! Just tell me what's wrong with you, Sherlock!</em>
</p><p>"You once told me that you've always trusted me", she began, coming a few steps closer. "I'm not forcing you, Sherlock, but I'm offering you to tell me what's wrong."</p><p>He looked into her eyes for a long time, then he got up and walked restlessly up and down the living room. He wouldn't talk. He would never have had this conversation voluntarily but he knew that his answer would decide on Molly's next steps.</p><p>"It was different last time“, he said. "It wasn't about you then…"</p><p>Molly's heart was beating faster by his words and she had to force herself not to act without consideration.</p><p>"If this is about me now, shouldn't I know?"</p><p>He laughed bitterly. Then he paused and hesitated for a moment. And suddenly he approached her as he had done that night, took her face in both hands, and kissed her as if he was a drowning man in desperate need for the rescuing shore.</p><p>Molly held on to him but more because she threatened to lose her balance as he staggered through the room with her, pushing her backwards. His hands enclosed her wrists as her back hit the cool wall, his slim but strong body was pressing against hers. Molly's breathing quickened due to his surprising but also rather arousing reaction. She kissed him back – overtaken by his passion – and moaned quietly when their tongues met. She had almost forgotten how good he tasted and how soft his lips were.</p><p>Her anger disappeared instantly and she was putty in his hands again.</p><p>"This is what's wrong with me," Sherlock said, interrupting the kiss and breathing heavily. „I want this. I don't understand it, but I can't forget it. And even less do I understand how you can give me this." His face was barely an inch away from hers, his scent raising to her nose. How much she loved the smell of him!</p><p>"What do you mean?", she asked, having trouble thinking straight.</p><p>"Those looks. Such dedication. Your…love. I don't deserve any of it, Molly. I may be the smartest detective in England but I'm the biggest asshole in this country from an interpersonal point of view. I even become a junkie when I can’t keep my brain busy the whole day. I have no sense of romance but I have a knack for getting myself into very precarious or even life-threatening situations regularly. Or to hurt you unintentionally."</p><p>He let go of her wrists and moved his thumb across her slightly parted lips instead. Molly felt the warmth of his body through the several layers of their clothes and even his heart beating. He kissed her again but this time much more gently. Molly put her hands in his neck and buried her fingertips in his dark curls. She wanted to hold him, to show him that what he had just said might be true rationally but that her heart felt completely different. She pulled him even closer, opened her lips, and swiped her tongue over his. He sighed softly as she nibbled at his lower lip and then covered his neck with even more kisses – unable to stop.</p><p>When she reached his ear, she whispered: "But you forgot one thing..."</p><p>His body froze instantly. He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"You don't have to understand, Sherlock. You just have to feel“, she explained.</p><p>He didn’t respond at first. The silence in the room was only interrupted by their soft breaths. Then a smile flitted across Sherlock's face before he pulled her into his arms.</p><p>"I think I do", he said, pressing his lips onto hers again. Then he slowly pushed her across the hallway towards the bedroom and his hands under the hem of her shirt. Molly willingly let him guide her, and when she unbuttoned the first buttons of his shirt, he asked without interrupting the kiss,</p><p>"Is it good enough?"</p><p>She reached back to the door handle and pushed it down.</p><p>"I think so but you're welcome to prove it to me..."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh God, I hope I haven't messed up the punch line *blushing*</p><p>Thanks so much for reading, kudoing and commenting! It was just overwhelming &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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